


You're Good. You're Safe.

by AllTheCosmos



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WIP, not entirely canon compliant but kind of?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheCosmos/pseuds/AllTheCosmos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2x10. Steve returns after being tortured by Wo-Fat. All is not well. Danny just wants to help his partner. Steve doesn't understand.</p><p>*in the process of uploading this*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Danny POV

**Author's Note:**

> Roughly set post 2x10, although canon timeline is fast and loose.  
> POV switches between Steve and Danny every other chapter.  
> Warnings for PTSD, torture related flashbacks, and descriptions of injuries.  
> Thanks for reading! (:

At this point, all Danny really wanted to do was tear up the other man’s passport. Block all of his IDs, freeze every last one of his accounts, cut the engine from his stupid truck, and put him on the no-fly list. Steve McGarrett couldn’t go anywhere ever again. He forbid it. By some miracle, a miracle that made Danny want to vomit, Steve agreed to let Danny drive him back home from the airport. The airport that they just flew into. The airport that their plane from South Korea landed in. The airport that told Danny they were home. Their team was safe. The air smelt salty and alive rather than too hot and suffocating. Five-0 was back in Hawaii and if Danny had his way, every last one of his team members would never ever leave the island again. Especially the one in his passenger seat. 

Danny stopped his inner monologue to focus the sounds of life coming from his partner. Steve was breathing, labored, but breathing. And Danny honestly thought he’d never get tired of that sound. The entire trip back, from the point when they fucking lifted Steve’s body into that goddamn helicopter until they touched down on the island, was a complete blur for Danny. He couldn’t relax, he couldn’t look any one of his team members in the face because he knew if he did he would just come apart. Just bust open. He didn’t have this training. He didn’t know how to handle it besides push everything so far down until everything felt numb. He could only deal in facts not feelings. Only facts. Wo Fat tortured Steve. And every time Danny couldn’t resist the urge to look over at him, to make sure he’s still fucking there, that he’s still breathing and those eyes are still open, he catches a glimpse of the damage done and has to ball up his fists, sit on his hands, and think of anything else. Hell fucking yeah he’s angry and exhausted and so relieved but also so done. Just so impossibly done with this. He was done thinking about the reasons behind it, the motive, what the team will do in order to catch Wo Fat, what their next moves will be and when they’ll execute them. No, he’s done with that for now. Danny has more important matters to attend to. 

When Five-0 shuffled out of the plane and had their feet on solid Hawaiian soil, Danny hugged each one of them and surprised himself by not melting into a puddle. It was an awkward moment when everyone wanted to stay together but also needed to rest. For maybe the whole weekend. And Danny was fine with that. Joe and the rest of their military aid left them with handshakes and warnings to never speak of this event again before they literally vanished from the tarmac. Five-0 walked back to their vehicles, Laurie tried for a smile and a lighthearted comment about taking a day off a work before looking close to tears and collapsing into her car but not before Kono made everyone promise to text that they got home safely. Then Chin straightened up, gave Steve one last lingering bro hug before ushering Kono, who looked like all she wanted to do was hop on the next flight to North Korea and hunt Wo Fat down and couldn’t understand why everyone else was tired, into their car with promises of safe travels and meaningful look to Danny that he translated as you-better-take-care-of-him. And that’s precisely what Danny planned on doing. Because god knows, if he just dropped off Super SEAL at his house, Steve would just slap on a few Band-Aids and call that adequate medical care. The man can barely walk. Has bruises and cuts and dried blood everywhere. When Danny pulls up into the McGarrett driveway, texts Kono, and parks the Camaro, he witnesses Steve trying pull himself out of the seat, grunting in poorly concealed pain and fucking shaking. And Danny’s really had enough with this whole toughing-it-out philosophy, thank you. He’s out of the car and offering some support in a matter of seconds. The walk to the front door is slow going and Danny has entirely too vivid mental images of Steve, broken and beaten Steve, collapsing onto his horrendous couch in his dark and empty house because he can’t make it up the stairs to his bed. And Danny really really didn’t need to think about leaving Steve alone right now. That’s just not something he’s planning on doing in the foreseeable future. 

Danny opens the door and gets Steve through the entryway, already cataloguing what he’ll need and the likely whereabouts of them in the house. When Danny heads off in the direction of the med kit Steve keeps stashed under the sink in the kitchen, Steve tries to stop him but puts up a frankly depressing defense and Danny glides right passed him. 

“You don’t need to stay, Danny. I’m good.”

“You’re good? You’re good?! You’re fucking good?” Danny bends down to recover the kit and slams in onto the kitchen counter, "Steven McGarrett you are many things but right now good is not one of them, alright? You head is still bleeding. Steve, blood is literally dripping out of your skull. So do not tell me you’re fucking good right now, you got it?” And sure, maybe he shouldn’t be yelling right now but the only other option is brutal honestly and Danny isn’t touching that one tonight. 

“Look,” Steve takes a few steps towards him and into the moonlight bathing the kitchen, Danny sickly thinks it highlights his friend’s already grey-shaded face, “I’m fine. Really.”

“Do you know what I’m doing right now? Huh? I’m mentally preparing myself to stitch up that cut under your left eye. That’s literally a thought that I am having, right now. I’m thinking that I’ll have to do it because I’m sure as hell not letting you use a damn sewing needle and floss and because you’ve refused every form of medical care since we’ve found you in that back of that convoy. Do you understand that? Not only is that a terrifying course of action but please note my sensitivity to the fact that yes, you would do a shoddy path-up job if you even bothered to take care of yourself that much, which I’m not convinced you would, and also my willingness to do this because someone has to. So please, do me a favor and don’t lie to me, alright?”

Danny finishes with a shaky sigh and bites hard on the inside of his cheek. When he finally looks up at Steve, he’s expecting defiance and stubbornness to his plan, but he’s thrown off by the calculating look Steve is sending his way. Looking him up and down as if he can’t quite puzzle him out just yet. And Danny recognizes that look. Its the look Steve gets when he’s listening to one of their suspects spin their tale of innocence. 

And Danny just crumbles a bit. And okay, he understands it. Probably everything in Steve’s SEAL training taught him that when he’s injured and weakened, he's much more vulnerable and susceptible to threats. So he gets that the hackles are up. He knows that the betrayal of a team member resulted in Steve’s capture. He also knows that because Steve is a moron, the man is probably examining every relationship in his life right now with a fine-tooth comb expecting to find more traitors. Because that’s just how fucked up this whole thing is. So yeah, he gets the defensiveness. But that doesn’t stop Danny. It should, but he needs Steve to get it through his stupid head that there are people that are trustworthy, that won’t just use him, people that care about him. 

“You’re not good. You’re not fine. And that’s okay, you don’t need to be all of the time.” Danny chances a glance up but Steve is just holding himself tighter and staring out of the window towards the ocean. And hey, Danny will take that, so he continues. "But you are safe. You got that? Your safe, I’m safe, Five-0s safe. You’re home now, okay?” 

“But Wo Fat is-“

“No, I’m sorry, no. We’re not talking about that right now. We’re talking about you. Standing, sorry, barely standing up, in your kitchen and dripping blood all over these gorgeous wood floors. So please, sit.” Danny motions towards the kitchen table and prays to whomever will listen that Steve is tired enough and out of it enough to just listen and not fight him on this. 

Steve’s continual cautious look would hurt in any other circumstance. He keeps scanning the doors and windows every few seconds and Danny wants to shake him. But refrains, wants to wipe that stupid questioning face Steve keeps giving him as if he’s trying to piece out the real intentions behind Danny wanting to help, but also refrains. He can’t rush this, can’t fix this in one night, he knows. But he also knows, he hopes and prays he knows, that there is a part of Steve that trusts him. However small and waning right now, it’s there. It has to be because Danny couldn’t handle it not being there. 

He busies himself with rifling through the first-aid kit because of course, Steve will have suture equipment. Danny only has to take a few more deep breaths before pulling out everything he’ll need to close the wound. He registers shuffling footsteps towards the table. 

“I can do it, Danny. You don’t have to.” And that makes Danny look up from sorting out what kind of fucking needle he’s going to use. This guy in unbelievable. He carries the supplies to the table and stands right in front of Steve. 

Danny just prods him right in the shoulder. “You can’t lift your arms above your head.” 

Steve’s jaw shifts at that line of thought. Like he forgot he’s just been strung up and bound by his wrists for hours. Maybe even days. They don’t know. And Steve is sure as hell not being forthcoming about what exactly happened to him. Not that Danny has the stomach to listen to it even if Steve wanted to share. For a moment Steve squares his shoulders and Danny honestly thinks they’re about to fight. That Steve is going to ask him to leave and that will be the end of it. Those stupid walls will just cement in place and Steve will just retreat more into himself and never let anyone help. And he wants to yell, he’s angry and yelling at Steve has been his default mode of communication. But this is so much more than tearing up his trigger-happy partner for property damage and liabilities and lamenting about correct police procedure. So, okay, brutal honesty it is. 

“Steve, look at me.” When Steve reluctantly does so Danny fiercely holds his gaze and lifts up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. You got that? These hands are just going to stitch you up and make sure nothing will get infected. That’s it.” 

Steve narrows his eyes and then looks back out the window. Danny reaches forward, very very slowly and tentatively lets his hand rest of Steve’s bicep. The muscles go instantly tense under his hand but Steve doesn’t move away. “Hey,” Danny squeezes until he gets Steve’s attention back, “let me do this, alright? I promise I’ve done this before so I won’t mark up that pretty face, babe.” And that gets a small, ghost of a smile and Danny feels like fucking bursting with joy. “Good. Okay, now, using your words, you gotta tell me you’re good with this.” He motions towards the equipment laying at the ready on the table. Steve shifts a few times before pulling out a chair from the table and not so gingerly collapsing into it. 

“I’m good with this.” It comes out quiet and a bit mechanic but it counts, he even meets Danny’s eyes and nods. Danny claps his hands together and reaches for the saline solution. 

“Perfect. Now tip your head back a little, that’s it dollface, just going to sterilize the area.” Steve’s eyes slip close when Danny gets his left hand cradled against the side of the other man’s face and uses his right to quickly irrigate the wound. It’s not that bad of a gash, clean, not jagged, just kind of nasty and in a sensitive enough area that letting it heal naturally is out of the question. Danny mentally thanks his years of undercover work that prepared him for suturing in the field. 

“Okay, beautiful. Now, I’m going to use the anesthetic gel and you’re not going to bitch about not needing it. You got that, hot stuff?” Danny threatens but Steve just hints a smirk and nods in acquiescence. So Danny continues. Marveling in how agreeable Steve is being but also sort of hating it because it is so not Steve. Danny prepares what he will need for suturing and with a quick, “Alright darling, hold still.” he begins to close the wound. 

When its all over, and everything is cleaned up, the med kit has been stashed back in its rightful place and Steve has stopped cringing in discomfort, Danny helps him out of the chair. “All patched up, honeybunch. Now go take a shower because your body odor is frankly offensive.” 

Steve just looks at him incredulously. “What? Unless your an eat-then-shower kind of guy? 'Cause, honestly, I don’t think I can sit through dinner with you smelling like that. So please, for my sake, shower. And not a Navy shower. A real one. With soap and shampoo and enough water to wash off all of your dried blood and god knows what else you rolled around in. What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Honeybunch?” Steve asks skeptically and inclines his eyebrows, as if he needs an explanation. Danny rolls his eyes. So predictable, this one. 

“Oh, I got a million of them, trust me. What? It relaxes you.” Danny returns and enjoys the brilliant way Steve turns his head away from him. “Now go.” Danny points him in the direction of the bathroom and gives a little shove to get him into action. The way Steve just shakes his head but follows the order shouldn’t give Danny as much satisfaction as it does. “Soap and shampoo, sweetheart.” He calls after him because hey, he’s a little bit of an asshole. 

He hears the water turn on a few moments later and collapses into the couch. The relief is overwhelming and so is the exhaustion. He sags into the couch, hoping to become one with it. Alertness just floods out of his body and he rolls back his shoulders with a contented sigh. Everyone is safe. Everyone is back home. Everyone is where they should be. He’s not ignorant of the fact that their fight isn’t over yet, and that they have much to do moving forward. But not tonight. Tonight its okay to take a break. 

He checks his phone where he hears the water shut off. Four minutes. Danny won’t even entertain the idea of letting Steve decide on the take out after that. He flips over on the couch so he can get the phone to his ear. Danny calls their local pizza joint and asks for their greasiest, meatiest, non-fruityest pizza they can manage. 

Steve comes lumbering down the stairs dressed in a clean, worn-looking long sleeved t-shirt and sweats. A choice that isn’t lost on Danny. Steve probably thought he could hide most of the cuts and bruises. But Danny isn’t going to complain. Because he smells 1000% better, looks slightly more human, and lost the tightness in his shoulders. Danny curls his legs up, making room. Steve plops down and they both sit in silence. Danny just wants to sleep. And the sound of the waves crashing in are almost soothing to him which should be an indication to exactly how tired he is. He nudges Steve’s knee with his foot. 

“I ordered some pizza and you’re going to eat it, okay?” Danny lets out a great yawn. “And water. Lots of water for you.” He burrows into the sofa. “Then, sleep. Got it?”

“Such a mother hen.” Steve replies with a yawn of his own, leaning back into the sofa and letting one of his hands rest of Danny’s still outstretched leg. Danny absolutely does not twitch. 

“Yeah yeah, save it. I get to be when my partner was just tortured.” Danny says more into the armrest. 

Then the doorbell rings. And Steve moves so fast Danny can’t track it. But he knows Steve’s pulled a weapon from somewhere and has it aimed at the front door. He’s in full on ninja mode again, body held on alert, ready for combat, and Danny wants to punch himself in the face. He heaves himself off the couch and moves toward Steve. 

“Whoa, hey, alright buddy. It’s the pizza guy, okay?” He positions himself in between Steve and the door. “Can we please put the guns away? Huh? You’ll scare the poor delivery kid to death.” Steve gives him a supremely suspicious stare-down and great, their back at square one. The doorbell rings again. Danny takes a step towards the door despite the honest-to-god growl that comes out of Steve. He pays the oblivious delivery guy with no incidence and sets the alarm system. 

“Look, just pizza, okay?” Danny makes a show of opening the box and walking back over towards the couch, depositing their food on the coffee table. "Now will you please put that thing away and I won’t even ask where it came from.” He turns his back on Steve to go grab some napkins and two glasses of water. 

When he comes back to the living room all firearms are stashed and Steve is sitting way too rigidly on the couch. Danny sits on the far end, grabbing for a slice of pizza and to his absolute amazement, Steve eats when he does. Thank fuck for small mercies. They eat in silence. And the sounds of the way crashing are starting to make Danny itchy. He watches Steve mechanically throw back the pizza and his glass of water, for show, Danny understands but he’ll take it. Regretfully, he thinks he should have at least taken advantage of Steve’s unnatural complacency and gotten him to swallow a few pain meds he knows Steve keeps stashed in the hallway closet because the giant meatball never takes them. 

When Steve appears to be done eating he just sits there, staring out into the ocean again, all tense lines and rigid angles. Danny swears he can feel the uneasiness rolling off the body next to him. He just wants to touch. Just wants to hug and comfort and soothe but he has no idea how that would go over and he would really rather not end up doing more harm than good right now. So he waits him out. They sit there. With the waves and the light from the kitchen. Danny may or may not have dozed off but he’s still there, still ready. And finally, finally, Steve audibly inhales and locks gazes with him. The look in Steve’s eyes in physically painful for Danny. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve bites out, angry and defeated. 

And Danny breaks. A string of no no no no shut up no catches in the back of his throat and he is really revisiting that punching himself in the face idea. A battered and split-open Steve McGarrett he can deal with, sure. One that’s throwing himself off of buildings and breaking into people’s houses, on a good day, sure. But one who feels like he let Danny down by getting captured even though no one could have prevented it, is not a Steve McGarrett he can deal with. 

“What? No, Steve. What are you talking about? Come on.” 

“This is my fault.” Steve says into the carpet. "I failed the mission. I made you worry and I’m sorry.” His voice is so empty and the cadence is all wrong and all of this is so, so wrong. 

“What are you talking about you failed the goddamn mission?” Danny feels his voice creeping into that hysterical octave and tries to bring it back down. "What are you even saying? None of this is your fault, alright? Kaye sold you out. None of us saw it coming. There’s nothing to apologize for, Steve.” He knows his hands are going a mile a minute but if he doesn’t gesture with them he’ll reach out and wipe that dark look off the other man’s face. 

“But I did make you worry.” Because that’s the only part Steve actually heard. 

“Well of fucking course you made me worry!” Danny cannot resist laughing, and even though it comes out a little manic. "But babe, really, you do that every time you get behind the wheel or start questioning a suspect. So par for the course on that front.” 

Steve slumps forward resting his elbows on his knees and let’s out a frustrated sigh. If Danny spoke caveman, he thinks the sigh could be roughly translated too I-have-a-lot-of-feelings-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do. And really this isn’t the time nor place that they should start talking about all of the ways Steve’s complete disregard for self-preservation makes Danny all twitchy and anxious. Or really, start talking about feelings in general. Cause it’s not like Danny has a filter on a good day and certainly not when he’s dealing with Steve being a giant idiot and Danny is fighting every last one of his parental urges that tells him to comfort and soothe when someone is so visibly hurting. But that might not be welcomed, or understood. So, new strategy. 

“Alright, big guy, I’m going to fall asleep on this couch in about two seconds. So bedtime, alright?” Danny stretches back out on the couch and letting out a gigantic yawn. "Go, shoo, begone. Sleep.” He emphasizes with little kicks to Steve’s leg. "Or head back to your charging station, whatever it is you do. It’s lights out for Danno.” Which is completely true and Danny doesn’t feel bad about using it as a maneuver to but distance between himself and Steve because he can barely keep his eyes open and he really, really needs this day to be over. He watches Steve tentatively get up, his face twisting in pain until he balances himself out, and glances from the couch to up the steps and back to Danny. 

“Think you can make up the stairs okay?” Danny asks from his position already bundled up in the blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and burrowed deep into the armrest. He lets his eyes fall to half-mast, the promise of sleep washes over him and his body sinks bonelessly into the cushions. 

“Yeah, that’s not - Danny, listen. You don’t have to stay, I’m-“ 

He doesn’t even bother with opening his eyes to fight this point with Steve. Words are never going to be enough, he knows. 

“Correction. I will always stay.” Danny mumbles out around another great yawn and the last thing he hears before losing consciousness is cautious footsteps leading up the stairs.


	2. Steve POV

Steve wakes up fluidly. Alertness coming to him as soon as he opens his eyes. He’s up, he’s kicked away whatever was covering him, and he’s ready. Eyes quickly taking in his surroundings. He’s in his own bedroom. Okay. Good. He’s home. And that’s good, that’s really fucking good. He rolls his shoulders back, wincing, and begins cataloguing the injuries. And how he sustained them and then he’s remembering - Steve closes his eyes and waits until he can hear the rise and fall of the ocean waves outside. Home. He’s home. He tries to match his breathing with it. Good, okay. So it’s over. It has to be over. And Steve lets himself collapse back into his bed because if this is some messed up hallucination he’s having he doesn’t even care, he just wants to chase the warmth and comfort of his own bed for as long as he can because when someone comes back into the cell to wake him up with force and yeah, he’ll just lay here until that happens. 

Two voices filter up from the stairs and float into his room. His body locks up just once but then he’s up. And he’s ready, there’s a knife in his bedside table he can twist and grab that and definitely make it to the side of the doorway before the attackers make it to the hallway and - 

“Can we wake up Steve now?” A high, stage-whispered voice asks from the bottom of the stairs. 

He freezes. That’s. That’s Grace’s voice?

“No baby, we need to let Steve rest, okay?” And that’s Danny. Specifically the voice Danny only uses with his little girl, the one that’s soft and warm and Steve lets it wash over him. "He’s really tired from his trip,” he can hear Danny continue, "and if we wake him up now he’ll be ridiculously grumpy. And no one needs to deal with that this early in the morning, alright?”

So. Danny and Grace are here. Downstairs. And okay, maybe he isn’t hallucinating and he’s actually home and it really is all over. He holds his position for a while longer, just in case. 

“But will he wake up soooooooon?”

Grace impatiently whines, the long drawn out ‘o’ resonating off the walls in his bedroom, and Steve melts right on the spot. 

“I’m sure he will, monkey. Then you can go nuts. But what’s the rule for today?"

“No jumping on Steve.” 

“That’s right. Now. Should we try to see what we can whip up for breakfast?” 

Their voices fade away as Steve assumes Danny is steering Grace towards the kitchen. Sometimes, Steve really can’t believe his luck. There has been too many missions, ones he’d rather not recall, where he had been certain the torture would never end, his extraction was never coming, the sun would refuse to rise, and yet, every time he somehow made it through. And he made it through this. He’s safe. He’s home. And Danny and Grace are making breakfast in his kitchen the day after his team rescued him from North Korea. He really couldn’t believe his luck. 

Steve returned his weapon to the nightstand drawer and waited a few more minutes, for form’s sake, before deciding he should clean himself up if he’s going to be facing Grace. He didn’t want to scare the poor kid with his busted up face and nasty discoloration but there was only so much he could do and he’d bet on the fact that Danny prepped Grace before bringing her over if the no-jumping-on-Steve rule is anything to go by. Which brought up the question as to why Danny would bring Grace over in the first place. Not that he was complaining, Steve would sooner cut off his right arm than miss out on an opportunity to hang out with Grace. He’s just surprised Danny would want to bring her here, with Steve probably looking like something from her nightmares. But if Danny thought it was a good idea, like hell if he was going to challenge it. 

So there he stood, in front of his bathroom’s mirror, and let out a frustrated sigh. He looked a mess and felt even worse. After brushing his teeth, he wiped away as much dried blood as he could, and willed his face to look less scary but not hoping for much. But when he finally lumbered his way down the steps and turned into the kitchen, the way Grace’s eyes lit up as she threw herself off her chair at the island and started charging at Steve was enough to make everything stop hurting for a while. 

“Grace!” Danny called out sharply, standing over the stove with a spatula raised warningly, and Steve watches Grace physically restrain herself and literally skid to a stop a few feet in front of him. Steve couldn’t hold back his laughter. 

“What was the one rule!” He hears Danny yell but he’s already dropped down to one knee, arms spread wide open waiting for his hug. As Grace leans into him he hears an exasperated, “Gently!” but wraps Grace up in a great big embrace and lifts her off the ground and spins her, much to Grace’s giggles and Danny’s long-suffering sigh. 

“Yeah okay, buddy. We get it. Now put her down before you hurt yourself. More.” Danny grumbles, turning back to his omelet-making. 

“Good morning to you too.” Steve offers to Danny before putting Grace down. As soon as her feet hit the ground she’s tugging Steve towards the coffeemaker. This girl has her priorities in order, he thought admirably. 

“Danno couldn’t figure out how to work it.” Grace gestures in the direction of the machine, she goes up on her tippy toes to whisper conspiratorially, “He said a naughty word.” 

Steve couldn't hold back his bark of laughter.

“Danno said lots of naughty words.” Danny drawls in the sing-song way of his from the omelet-making station. “Because that thing, Steven, is prehistoric. It was sputtering and moaning and spit out mud. The whole experience was offensive and you should get rid of it at once.” 

Steve was grinning like a loon, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “You just have to patient with it.” He said to Danny, leaning around the other man to swipe a few sliced peppers. He was rewarded with a slap to the hand that actually made him drop the peppers back into the bowl. 

“Come on, Gracie.” Steve spun around the kitchen gathering the necessary supplies and setting them next to the coffeemaker on the island, "I’ll show you how it works so your poor father doesn’t collapse from lack of caffeine.” Which was almost a joke, Steve’s seen Danny without his daily cup of coffee exactly one time and that was an experience he hope he never lives to see again. 

Grace turned out to be a quick study, only needing Steve to explain all of the buttons and the proper procedure once before giving the machine a determined sort of stare and executing the perfect cup of coffee. Her delight was evident in learning something new and that combined with her whispered ‘it really isn’t that hard’ had Steve feeling all stupidly happy and warm. Grace’s smiles had always been infectious. And he firmly reminded himself that his good mood had absolutely nothing to do with Danny’s sighs of pleasure upon tasting his cup of coffee. Did he have to be noisy about everything?

Steve was enjoying his own cup and helping Grace mix chocolate syrup into her milk (the concoction was at a solid 50/50), when the eventual nagging started. He’s surprised Danny lasted fifteen minutes. Apparently done with the omelets and prepping some fruits for slicing, Danny turned to Grace and Steve. 

“You.” He pointed at Steve with the knife. “Water, pain meds, and Neosporin. Please.” Steve felt his eye roll/scoff combination was entirely needed. He wasn’t broken, he was fine, he’s been through worse then a little torture. “I said please, don’t fight me on this.” He made a swishing motion with the knife that carried finality and the potential of a warning.The lines around Danny’s eyes were hard and Steve was about to comment but Danny didn’t leave any room for argument. The knife next pointed towards Grace and Steve watched Danny’s demeanor completely shift when he addressed his daughter, smiling openly. “And you, monkey. Set the table, got it?”

“Got it!” Grace cried out next to him. Hopping off her stool at the island and running around Steve’s kitchen gathering plates and silverware and napkins with practiced ease, as if it was daily occurrence. Steve’s lungs tightened painfully. Suddenly reminding him of the possible broken ribs on his right side. And the general mishmash of cuts and bruises that littered his torso. And his face. And his arms. And the fact that raising his arms above his head to put on a shirt felt like a monumental undertaking this morning. And why his arms felt like that. And the memory of rusty cuffs cutting into flesh, chains clattering about every time he lost his footing and pitched forward. 

“See, this is what I’m trying to avoid.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up and suddenly Danny was only a few feet away from him , still with the knife and using it to indicate all of Steve.

“Your face isn’t at all attractive when you do that nasty grimace in pain thing with your mouth, okay? Trust me. Its hideous. So don’t bitch and pound back some meds, alright?” 

Steve can’t even bring himself to put up a defense for form’s sake, obviously he’s not thinking clearly. His thoughts feel muddled and all mixed up and he tries very hard not to think about What Happened and tells himself to focus on something, anything else. He looks back to Danny. 

"I don’t want to hear about how you’re too tough for them. You’re a big, brave SEAL, we get it, go you, I don’t care right now, take some goddamn painkillers.” 

Steve simply nods and watches the surprise widen Danny’s eyes. Apparently his partner was expecting more of a fight. A fight that Steve just didn’t have in him at this point. He aimed for a smile and marched his way to he medicine cabinet grabbing a glass of water as he went. Steve distantly registered Danny’s probably unconscious sigh of relief when Steve swallowed back some painkillers. They’re not going to do much, he knew that, his abused muscles were going to be tender no matter what he pumped into his system, but at least they might stop the pounding behind his eyelids. 

He stared hard at the white counter, bracing his weight on the palm of his hands. He felt the solid, weight of the tile beneath his fingers. He heard Grace, Grace, clanking away in the dining room. He good smell Danny’s, Danny’s, cooking and the promise of a good breakfast. He really was one lucky bastard. His mind kept circling back to trying to understand why Danny was a.) here in the first place, much less cooking him breakfast and b.) again, why would he waste his time with Grace by bringing to Steve’s? It made some kind of logical sense that Danny would want to check on his partner’s wellbeing after Steve suffered through, well, what he suffered through. And the breakfast could just be an extension of the worry, making sure Steve actually ate something, and bringing Grace along was probably just out of sheer convenience. After Danny felt certain that Steve wouldn’t neglect himself, they’d pack up and leave Steve to recover for the rest of the day. 

A strong hand circled his elbow. 

“Alright?” Danny was right next to him, voice low and clear, face full of poorly concealed concern. Steve wanted to be annoyed by it but couldn’t muster up those feelings. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” He huffed out, taking in a large gulp of air and pushing it out his nose. It made his chest burn and his ribs twinge. Great, he thought angrily, he’ll be feeling that for at least a few days. 

“Good.” Danny’s hand dropped and he put space between, “because breakfast is ready.” His voice rose in volume at the last bit in order to catch Grace’s attention. He watched the pair of Williams ferry the food and drinks to the table. Danny gave him a directed nod that said sit down, shut up, and eat your food. With a smirk, he did as he was nonverbally told. 

Within the first few bites, the conversation that unfolded between his two guests was fascinating, even if they were chattering away about mundane things. School, homework, the impending thunderstorm. Their father-daughter communication was lightening quick, one of them trailing off and the other picking it up without really noticing what they were doing. It spoke volumes to their close relationship, and Steve felt a singular, selfish pang of jealousy. Both to what he’d never had, and what he’d probably never share. Danny didn’t treat Grace like the little kid she was, with that normal albeit patronizing voice some parents use on their children. He spoke to her as he would anyone else, with far more concern and love, yes, but with a level of respect and equality that Grace reflected with her electric smiles and openness. It was dazzling, and so completely unfamiliar to Steve. 

“What do you think about that Steve?” Danny turned expectantly towards him. 

And shit, he wasn’t paying any attention to whatever they were just talking about. Focusing instead on his own wonderings and letting their words was over him. He shot Danny an apologetic expression. He received an annoyed yet fond look laced with an undercurrent of Danny’s now ever-present concern. 

“If I have you’re full attention now, I was saying that I’d like to swing by HQ today to pick up some paperwork that still needs completing. Mostly because, besides Chin, I’m the only one that bothers to fill it out. Not happy about that, by the way.” Danny took a gulp of coffee sending a pointed look Steve’s direction. He’s giving himself an out, Steve realized. Or rather, simply preparing Steve for his departure. "Maybe check in on things too, while I’m there.” Danny continued. "Make sure that Chin and Kono aren’t breaking their promises to take it easy for a few days. Whadaya think?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Steve wasn’t really sure why Danny was asking, even Steve knew Danny wouldn’t allow him to come with given his current state no matter his feelings to the contrary. 

“Excellent.” Danny said vehemently, clapping his hands together one and then he was up out of his chair and on the move. A silent agreement between him and Grace must have happened because they were both cleaning up the table and piling the dishes in the sink. Steve hazily got up and trailed after them. Danny was already pocketing his keys from where they laid on the counter and moving towards the door. The skies looked grey and cloud-covered out of his bay window. The rain would start to fall any minute. They were leaving. They were going to leave and the morning was over and Steve found himself really, really not liking that outcome. But he wouldn’t voice that, it would set off too many warning bells. He followed them to the door. 

Danny pulled Grace into a hug, “Alright, monkey, take care of Steve, okay?” 

Wait, what? Steve’s mind blanked. 

Danny didn’t seem to notice, releasing his daughter and standing back up. “Bully him with those big, brown eyes if you have to, you got that?”

“Got it!” Grace nodded seriously and took her place at Steve’s side, lacing her small, delicate fingers with his big, calloused ones. And didn’t that just knock him on his ass. Or it would, had it not been for the soft touch of Grace’s hand in his. His chest burned again. His panicked must have been evident. 

“I’ll only be a few hours, tops.” Danny implored, looking as if he was regretting leaving given Steve’s apparent discomfort. 

“You’re leaving Gracie with me?” he asked lamely, the obvious was all his muddled up brain could sort out right now. 

Danny’s face split into a grin. “Well, someone has to look after you. And don’t worry, she’s a very self-sufficient kid. Call if you need anything.” Danny said that last part to Grace, and she responded with a nod and a ‘love you, Danno’ before steering Steve away from the door and into the living room. The sliding glass doors that led to his lanai were just barely cracked, letting in the cool winds of an anticipatory storm and the sweet smell of rain it brought with it. The atmosphere soaked the living room in a grey, dreary light, casting about shadows and gently blowing out the curtains. But regardless, Steve felt it only made the space feel refreshed and cozier.

Smalls hands were prodding him towards the couch. 

“Danno said you need to rest.” Grace said sternly and Steve smiled widely, letting himself be ordered around by this little girl. She was diligent in her duties. Apparently Danny did more than simply brief her, exact instruction for care-taking could probably be found in Gracie’s Hello Kitty backpack slung near the coffee table. Something tickled in the back of Steve’s mind that maybe this had all been planned, but he was too tired to investigate it further. He’d only been awake for maybe an hour and already he could feel his energy depleting. Guess he was more worse for wear that originally thought. Grace wasn’t satisfied until Steve was lying down on the couch, quilt pulled up tight to his chin. Then she looked conflicted. Remote in hand she glanced from the TV, to Steve, to the open armchair, and back to Steve. And though Steve was nowhere close to Danno’s level of Gracespeak, he could understand this one. 

“It’s okay, Gracie. I’m fine. Come on up.” He nodded towards the couch but Grace still looked uncertain, but also like she very much wanted to believe Steve. He scooted a little further up the couch and gave her a warm smile. He was met with a much brighter one. Grace freed her own blanket from the armchair and so carefully, so very conscientiously climbed into the space between Steve’s bent knees and the back of the couch. Just enough space for her to sit comfortably and prop herself up against the other armrest. When she was settled, arm poised ready with the remote, she turned to give Steve an anxious look. A look that made Steve want to sit up and pull her into a tight hug. 

“Danno said you got hurt.” Her voice sounded small and quiet. As if she meant it as a whisper, confessing a secret. Steve fought the urge to assure her that nothing was wrong, that he was just tired, but he knew that’s not what Danny would want. He’d always been honest with Grace, and Steve felt he should do the same. 

“Yes. I did.” He admitted roughly. Not liking the still anxious look he was receiving from Grace. He stretched out his hand for Grace to take. “But I’m feeling better.” Which was really, only a half-lie. “And now I have you to take care of me, I’ll be fine.” He squeezed Grace’s hand and relaxed when Grace was smiling once more. Soothed in her concern, she powered up the TV. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” She pulled up the on-demand menu within seconds. Searching until she found the Disney-Pixar category. “I like to watch Ratatouille when I’m sick.” She looked at Steve then, a question in her statement. He was absolutely powerless against her, he couldn’t hold back his smile as he nodded his agreement. Grace happily clicked through to start the film. "Danno said you’d probably sleep through it but that’s okay,” she burrowed into her nest of blanket-armrest-Steve "I’ll tell you about it the parts you missed when you wake up.” 

She flashed him a smile and Steve honestly couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

He followed the story of Remy, the gifted rat, for the first half an hour. But he was spending just as much time watching the movie as he was watching Grace. Completely enraptured in the animated film and snugged up at the end of couch, providing him with some contact and warmth. Totally planned, he settled on, sending a silent thanks to Danny, he fell blissfully asleep.

 

///

 

Steve woke up to the sounds of waves, a blank TV screen and no Grace. He blinked his eyes open and took in the sunlight scattering through the windows. So he slept through the movie and the rain. Interesting. 

He panicked for a few moments, sitting up entirely too quickly and having his muscles scream at him in protest, before finding Grace sprawled on the carpet a few feet away, surrounding by books and steadfastly working away on something that looked like homework. 

She turned at the sound of Steve’s stirring, lifting her head over her shoulder she gave Steve a calculating once-over that had him wishing his bruises and cuts would magically disappear. “Danno texted and said to check your phone.” She smiled and happily went back to her work. 

“Will do. Thanks” Steve pushed himself into a seated position, trying to bite back the urge to groan in pain, and reached out to swipe his phone off the coffee table. 

He smiled fondly when his phone displayed 3 missed texts from Danno. 

 

[12:34pm] You better be sleeping.

[12:41pm] Oh thank god, you’re sleeping, Grace said so. Shame, Ratatouille is a good one. 

[12:45pm] You should probably change your bandages and take more pain meds. Be back soon. 

 

Steve shook his head, sending back a quick ‘yes dear’ before getting up to follow Danny’s orders. He should be annoyed, at the blatant disregard for his independence and his capacity to take care of himself. But if Steve was being honest, it’s been too long since someone’s been this aggressive in showing their concern for his well-being. He couldn’t find it in him to mind. Of course there was Katherine, but she understood the suffer-in-silence mindset that military instills when it comes to dealing and recovering from pain, she didn’t prod him into unnecessary rest or see to check-up on him constantly. Mary was always off doing her own thing and Steve never felt like burdening her with whatever he had going on. He’d never show weakness to his father and had to be the fearless, always in charge kind of boss at work, so that left his friends. And if Danny wanted to step in to that role, Steve wasn’t going to object. 

He patched himself up in the bathroom (again), mindful this time for signs of infection or causes for concern. That’s all he needed, to catch something nasty in one of his various wounds and have to go to the hospital. He absolutely didn’t want to answer any of those questions. The answers were flooding his conscious unwillingly. 

Contusions encircling his wrists from the shackles. Muscle strain in his biceps, lats, and deltoids from being bound and strung up. Multiple lacerations and further contusions across face and torso from the beating. Possible fractured ribs from blunt force trauma. Exhausted muscles and burn marks on his abdomen from electroshocks. 

He could hear the crackle-pop of the taser. Could remember the feel of his body just giving out. His voice sounded not like his own bouncing off the walls in the too-small space. 

“Steve?” 

Shit. Grace was suddenly at the door to the bathroom, looking nervously at his slumped figure. He couldn’t imagine how he looked to her. Didn’t want to. 

“Yeah Gracie, what’s up?” He tried to put all that he could into making the words soft and reassuring, straightening himself up. Grace smiled and Steve thought she should probably start selling those as alternative painkillers. 

“Can you help me with my worksheet? Danno said you would probably know all about what we’re studying right now. But he said not to bug you if you’re feeling bad. Are you feeling bad?” Her voice went from hopeful to concerned in two seconds and Steve smiled broadly. With another pang of selfishness he realized he could get used to both of the Williams obsessive caretaker tendencies. Not something he should look forward to, though. 

“No, I’m good. I promise. What are you working on?” 

With that he was pulled back into the living room and shifted into his own space on the carpeted floor while Grace passionately described her science class’s current exploration into the native plants of Hawai’i. He sighed in relief, this was definitely something he could help her with. Pointing back and forth from her vibrantly colored workbook to the worksheet she was making progress on, Grace explained how she was meant to look at the picture of the plant or flower and identify it. She only had a few more to ID and Steve sympathized, immediately recognizing the ones she was struggling over as the rarer plants that bloomed on the islands, some Grace has probably never seen before. 

He pointed at an unidentified picture of a distinctive, medium-sized tree on her worksheet. Steve always thought they looked like something from a Doctor Seuss illustration. 

“You’ve seen this tree before.” He commented, watching the cogs spin in Grace’s head as her eyes sharply focussed on the image. He knew she’s seen it before because he’s been with her when they’ve been surrounded by these trees. “They can normally be found close to the coast.” Steve hinted and Grace’s fingers flipped the pages of her book.

“It produces fruit, right?”

Steve nodded proudly, watching her scan for pertinent information. 

“It’s the Hala tree!” She squealed, grabbing her pencil to fill in the proper identification. Her excitement was contagious. 

“Way to go, Grace!” They high-fived. “Okay, what else?” 

She gestured to another unidentified image, this one was a small flower. The Hawaiian poppy, as non-natives referred to it. Steve only had to drop one hint before Grace figured it out, naming it Pua Kala. Steve was absurdly happy that her school was teaching them the traditional - and correct - names of the plants. 

“One more to go.” Grace said after filling in Pua Kala’s classification. They both looked at the final image, and Steve’s smile grew lopsided. It was a simple yet beautiful white flower, and in his personal opinion, one of the best native flowers Hawai’i had to offer. 

Grace must have noticed his satisfied smirk, she gave him an impish grin, “What?”

Steve returned with one a bit more mischievous, “Oh nothing,” he drawled out teasingly, feeling Grace grow more impatient next to him, “its just that I have this particular flower in the garden outside.” 

She was off like a rocket. With a blinding smile she scrambled up so fast, running for the sliding glass door and hastily throwing it open. Steve barely managed to heft himself off of the floor (with more than a few pops and cracks from his unhappy joints) in time to watch Grace rush the threshold and dash outside. He followed her, much more slowly but probably with the same amount of enthusiasm. Any time he had a hand in making that smile appear on Grace’s face he counted it as personal victory. By the time he made it out past that lanai, Grace was already rooting around in the garden, searching for the illusive flower. Belatedly he thought he should probably make her put on some type of footwear as the grass was still damp for the earlier rain and no doubt the soil would be a little muddy. He resolved to clean up their inevitably dirty bare feet before Danny returned. 

“It’s this one! It’s this one!” Grace’s voice rang out from her carefully balanced position near the plants closest to the side of Steve’s house. And by carefully balanced he meant that she took care not to trample anything underfoot but that her bare feet were already a lost cause. He jogged over to her side. 

“Yep. And what do you know about it?”

Grace’s brow furrowed as her fingers gently stroked the delicate petals. “I don’t know it’s name but from where you planted it, it must need a lot of sun?”

“Uh-huh.” Steve nodded and sent her an expectant look, "Did you smell it?”

Grace smiled wildly before leaning down for a whiff. Her eyes opened comically wide and Steve laughed, genuinely, deep-belied laugh. 

“Its so sweet!” Grace exclaimed, getting closer to the flower and breathing in the deliciously crisp aroma. Her face went lax in appreciation. He knew the feeling, over the years he has come to link the scent of this flower with the concept of relaxation. For that exact reason, Steve likes to keep this flower close to his porch where, when the wind is being cooperative, he can catch an updraft from the ocean and the salt-mixed-sweet air will carry into his house, filling it with its intoxicating fragrance. Grace looked like she couldn’t get enough. 

“Any ideas?” Steve asked, attempting to refocus them to their objective. Grace bit her lip. He continued, “Because of it’s smell and shape, its pretty common flower used in lei-making.”

Grace immediately lit up, “The Hinahina.” 

“You got it.” Steve assured, they shared a look of triumph. 

He expected her to race back inside, just as quickly as she came, to fill out the final space on her worksheet in order to be done with it. Instead she just started to hum and traipsed around the garden, inspecting each plant and flower, with as many senses as she pleased, following the extended arm of soil out away from the house and continued her exploration to the other side of the garden. Steve happily watched her meander and circle this way and that, taking in as much as she could and probably identifying what she could recall as she went. 

“What’s this one?” She abruptly stopped next to a smattering of vividly purple flowers with oblong petals, pointing wearily at the plant. Steve could understand her confusion, it wasn’t native to the Islands. He made his way over to her. 

“It’s called Impatiens balsamina.” Steve bent over the plant and gently plucked out a petal from one of its flowers. He held it up for Grace to examine, rubbing it between his fingers. “Otherwise known as a Touch-Me-Not.” 

“Why is it called a-“

Grace shrieked as Steve stealthily swiped the crushed petal across her cheek, leaving a vibrant smear of violet dye in its wake. And he was laughing, oh, he was laughing. Her jaw dropped as she wiped at the spot with the back of her hand, staring at its reflected mark of color with wide, shocked eyes. Steve knew the exact moment he was in trouble when those wide eyes went sharp and intent. A single, devilish smile was all he got in warning before Grace grabbed two fistfuls of petals and lunged for his arms, dragging the mashed petals from his elbows down his forearms and to his hands, leaving a swirling trail of matching violet dye. She giggled madly and then all hell broke loose. At Steve’s charge Grace took off with a high-pitched scream that came out as hiccupy laughter. He made sure to grab some more petals as he gave chase and followed Grace’s dancing figuring darting in and out of plants until she made a break for the sanctuary of the lanai. She had to cross the breadth of the backyard in order to get there and Steve made up the distance quicker with his faster, longer strides. Upon his nearing approach Grace gave another cry of frenzied glee before Steve easily bent down, letting out a growl for good measure, and scooped her up. Cradling her against his chest with one arm and using the other hand to smear the last of his petals across her forehead. The purple pigment stood out in great contrast to Grace’s tanned skin. She howled and relentlessly squirmed but Steve’s hold was stronger. Damn his injuries, some things were more important. And right in this moment, he never felt better. Grace was laughing herself breathless and tiring herself out before she just sagged in Steve’s arms, and he was right there with her. Beaming at each other with unbridled delight. 

Steve carried her like that all the way into the kitchen, letting her sit on the counter closet to the sink. They both conspiratorially agreed that if they do a good job at cleaning up, Danno would never have to know. Steve grabbed for the paper towels and soaked one in warm water before dabbing at Grace’s cheek. She was still occasionally giggling, almost off and on, like she would calm herself down and then remember the whole event and she’d be off on another peal of laughter. Pointing at Steve’s purple spots like they were a personal victory. Steve couldn’t help but share in her smiles. They were magic. Just an hour ago he could barely pull himself from the couch without his muscles shaking and now he was drunk on happiness. Thunderstruck with just how good it all was. Feeling better than he had in days and cherishing each and every moment of Grace’s glee and vibrancy. He was in love with this little girl. Wholeheartedly. The truth in how he knew that, and how much he felt it, overwhelmed him. 

When most of the violet dye washed off with just a little scrubbing Steve sent up a silent thanks. He knew the flower was nonpoisonous and knew that the dye was harmless but it didn’t occur to him until too late to wonder if it would semi-permanently stain. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. 

They chatted back and forth. Making future plans to explore all of Steve’s garden, 'even the plants in the front of the house, Steve’, on a later date. Grace enlisted his help on any and all forthcoming work about the native plants of Hawaii and Steve gave it freely. They were too busy laughing and joking to hear Danny come through the front door. Apparently Navy SEAL trained Steve was too wrapped up in the world of Grace to pay attention to anything else. Sue him. 

Because that’s how Danny found them. Of course. Mud-caked, grass-stained, and petal-dyed. Probably didn’t help that they were both sweaty from running around and likely covered in dirt. Steve couldn’t even find it in him to be apologetic. Not with Grace looking just as satisfied and not-guilty next to him. 

Naturally, Danny didn’t see it that way. 

“Three hours! Three. Hours. I was gone, and this is what you do. This is what happens, huh?” Danny dropped what he was carrying in favor of windmilling his arms. “I come back to find both of you covered in god knows what, as if you just rolled around outside like animals?” Steve tried so very hard to hide his smile, this was he second favorite kind of Danny. All passionate gesticulating and theatrical dramatics. A peep of suppressed laughter came from the counter. “Oh you think this is funny, huh?” Danny turned to Grace, open and mock-challenging. “You think I like coming back to find my daughter, whom I left to the safety and care of one Steven McGarrett, looking like she just came wandering out of the forest after being lost for days?”

“Not a forest, Danno. The garden.” Grace helpfully chimed in and Steve couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer at the look of confusion on Danny’s face. As soon as Steve gave in, Grace was right behind him with an onset of giggles. It was contagious. 

“Guess that explains whatever’s on your face. And your arms. Steve, please tell me it comes off.” Danny impatiently pleaded and Steve didn’t trust his voice not to erupt back into more laughter so he simply took another wet paper towel and rubbed off the dye from his forearms in demonstration. 

“Thank god. Good. Excellent. One less thing to worry about. I can’t believe you.” Danny shot at Steve. Steve could discern that there was no real heat behind it, mostly because this is something that Danny would probably expect from him. But Steve turned to Grace with renewed attention to clean her up anyway. 

“Oh, stop it. It’s not worth it.” Danny picked up the bags from the floor and deposited them on the island. Turning to the pair of them, he nudged Steve out of the way with his hip and helped Grace down from the counter. “It will take you forever at that rate. Now,” Danny clapped his hands together and stood before the messied-up pair. “Grace, hit the shower. You packed some clean clothes, right?” 

Grace nodded and skipped off in the direction of her Hello Kitty backpack. Before she dashed up the steps, Danny stopped with her directions as to where she could find the towels and made her promise to scrub all of the ‘muck’ off, and Steve was stupidly head-over-heels with fact that Danny and Grace knew where things were in his house and felt comfortable using them. Grace ascended the last of the steps and disappeared into the bathroom. 

“You.” Steve’s attention snapped back to his partner, only a few feet away from him. “You feeling okay?” 

Steve was expecting more yelling, more ‘what the hell’s the matter with you’ and other phrases as such, but nothing of the sort came. He wasn’t expecting Danny’s ever-expressive face asking a million questions of concern, wasn’t expecting the underlying knowing look Danny kept throwing him, and was completely not expecting how much he suddenly wanted. God, where is all of this coming from? It was like a switch flipped inside of him and he was feeling everything. It was instantaneous and all-consuming. He wanted this, wanted lazy days with Grace spent playing outside, wanted Danny coming home with take out, wanted to pull Danny into him and whisper his gratitude into his skin, wanted the closeness and the comfort, wanted them to stay the night and sleep with Danny, warm and solid, wrapped around him. 

Motherfucker he needed to breathe. Steve shook his head until it hurt. 

“Whoa, you okay?” Danny moved closer and Steve really didn’t need that right now. "You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

Steve let out a derisive snort. Yeah, that’s how he felt. How stupid he was. This day was just a gift, just a gift he should hold onto but not expect ever again. He’d do well to remember that. Everything about it was perfect, minus the blinding pain here and there, and it was so tempting to just give in and want it all. But he certainly had no right to want it. And no right to ask for it. Danny and Grace had their own life. One that didn’t include Steve and didn’t need to. One that was better without the mess and storms Steve always carried with him. If only he could get that through his skull and push down the disappointment. 

Danny rested a hand on his shoulder and Steve jerked away. Danny immediately took about three steps backwards. “Okay, easy, easy.” He brought his hands up, palms facing Steve, "Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“No. Sorry. I’m fine.” Steve collected himself and nodded towards the bags on the counter, "Did you bring back lunch?"

Danny froze, unsure of which path he wanted to take, confront or move pass. And Steve knew that whatever just happened wasn’t dismissed, only tabled. He watched his partner nod to himself, and then again, broadly. 

“Uh, yeah. Just picked up some Chinese. Got a little bit of everything, that good with you?”

It was absurd that Danny was asking, he knew Steve loved Chinese take-out despite his constant bitching about MSG and too-large portions. Steve felt off-balanced and selfish and sick with himself for wanting something he’d could never ask for. He nodded his agreement. 

“Good. Sure you’re feeling okay?” It was the most aggressively nonchalant ‘what the hell’s the matter with you’ he’s ever received from Danny. 

“Yeah, Danno. I’m good, sorry.”

“God, no. Don’t apologize.” Danny look defeated, "Just, talk? If you want to?”

All Steve could do was nod. 

“Alright.” Danny visibly snapped back into his normal self, as if he singlehandedly just cut the tension between them, “Now, after Grace showers, you’re next. Because you’re filthy. And smell really bad.” It was so much like the other night it physically pained Steve. "No offense, man. Then food. And I don’t care what you have to say, you need to eat like a substantial amount.” This was just partner concern, that’s it. Friendly, good-willed concern of a colleague. Nothing more. More than what he expected but certainly not the way he wanted it. “Also you have to promise not to eat all of the egg rolls this time. Got it? And remember-“

“Water. Pain meds. Neosporin. I got it.” Steve interrupted, already moving towards the stairs. He wanted to be anywhere but this domestic sanctuary he’d never have again. Too much, it was too much. And his head felt like it might split in half. And he could still smell the fragrance of the flowers clinging to his person and he needed a retreat. 

Steve took a long shower. Changed into his oldest sweatshirt and softest sweatpants. Avoided the mirror as he pasted on some more antibacterial gel. Ate and drank when he was supposed to. Tuned out the rest of the evening. Watched Danny and Grace pack up their stuff. Heard the Camaro purr to life and slide out of his driveway. Listened to the waves and every other sound his empty house produced. Finally, hours crawled by, the night stayed black and cold, and his body reluctantly slipped into unconsciousness.


	3. Danny POV

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time, Danny considers that he is probably the only sane member of Five-0. 

So maybe they all didn’t get beaten, or tortured, or even shot at, but they all did just fly halfway across the goddamn world to rescue one of their teammates. And really, he didn’t think he’d have so much trouble trying to convince everyone to take a few days off. After something like that, he certainly didn’t just want to jump back into work. 

Danny’s big plans for a weeklong rest and recovery period for his team lasted all of three days. And honestly, he counts it as a win. Both because he never once thought they would actually last a week and also because having to enforce that no one came into the office or did anything police-related was getting out of hand. He stole Steve’s keys. Twice. Made Kamekono promise to call him if he saw Steve doing anything besides surfing on the beach. And after a distressed call from HPD, he had Fong deactivate Kono's entry card and forbid Duke to take any curious calls from Chin. Seriously, his team. He loved them but they were all mental. 

So he thanked the criminals of Hawaii for keeping it together and not doing anything too stupid for a blissful two and a half days before he dutifully reported to the crime scene whence he was called. But he loudly sighed and did as much eye-rolling as possible to convey his unhappiness. 

A body washed up on the north shore and Five-0 needs to sort out if foul play was involved. He huffed and stomped through the sand as he approached his fellow team members from their spot on the beach. Steve was in the zone, not bothering to bring Danny up to speed, calling out orders left and right, directing people using his Commander voice. Whatever, Danny’s long since been immune to it. Kono was practically bouncing on her toes as Danny watched her cataloging evidence and leaning over Max as he examined the body. Even Chin, calm and collected Chin, seemed all too happy to be tasked with gathering witness statements. These people were going to be the death of him. At least Steve, Kono, and Chin didn’t go out and commit a crime together just so they would have a case to work on. Wait, but, maybe- 

No. They’re crazy but they’re not that crazy. 

So business continues as usual. He’s working with HPD, setting up a perimeter to protect the scene and being handed the victim’s wallet. Five-0 is knee-deep on the case in a matter of minutes and working like a well-oiled machine. Chin and Kono doing their thing, going through the virtual paper trail, processing the evidence, reporting back to Steve, and Steve's coordinating their next moves, barking at Danny to follow after him and to get in the Camaro, and proceeding to break into their victim’s apartment without a second thought. Right, business as usual. 

But that’s just the thing. It’s just business. And after a few hours, Danny’s eyes get all squinty and confused. And he doesn’t like feeling squinty and confused. Mostly because he’s a cop and he shouldn’t be second-guessing himself on the job because that’s how he ends up blown up or shot. He really, really doesn’t want to get blown up or shot. He purposefully keeps shooting his squinty and confused face Steve’s direction, knowing that the other man will eventually bitch about it and tell him to stop, but nothing. Not a thing. Not one fucking word. And Danny really should have expected this stonewall defense. After Steve got all distant and huffy last night, Danny should have thought it would carry over into their working relationship. But Steve’s usually so careful about separating work from - well, whatever they have between them. So yeah, the very passive-aggressive not-talking-about-it is annoying but not as annoying as Steve not being able to dial up the professionalism. So Danny settles on more sighing and eye-rolling, maybe his own passive-aggressive displeasure will seep into that thick head Steve carries around on his shoulders. Its not that they have to talk about, Danny’s fairly certain he knew what happened last night. After all, bringing Grace over to visit Steve the day after he got back from fucking North Korea after being tortured was a risky move. But Danny knew, no matter what the other man said, that Steve needed company. Needed a constant reminder where he was and more importantly, where he wasn’t. And who better to be a golden ray of sunshine than Grace? But maybe it was just too much too soon. Which was fine, and he’d more than happily apologize for it if Steve actually verbalized it. But, none such luck. He looks sullenly over at his emotionally constipated partner. 

Steve’s laser-focused on this case. Not that he isn’t for all their cases, but Steve’s like an extra intense level of focus right now, paying absolutely no attention to anything that doesn’t revolve around suspects and leads and bringing physical harm to the bad guys. Which hey, Danny is all for, but after the third time he is outright ignored by his partner, Danny starts thinking there must be something else going on here. If Steve was just upset about Danny’s using Grace as a blatant ploy to infuse a little bit of good happy bright things in Steve’s day of recovery, then maybe after a few hours of trying to find words, Steve would have told him. But, no explanation, no complaint, ever came. Which makes Danny think, and that’s not always a good thing. 

Danny notices it again when they’re driving back to HPD. In silence. Still in silence. He panics a little thinking that he might have inadvertently said something that may have offended Steve, resulting in the silent treatment. But he can’t even think back to what might have been the trigger because he hasn’t even really said anything to Steve all day. They got in the car, drove to the victim’s apartment, got back in the car, and drove to HQ. All without exchanging any of their normal quips and banter. Outside of comments regarding the case they haven’t even interacted. There’s been no bickering back and forth, Danny hasn’t bitched about following the speed limit or unnecessary property damage, Steve hasn’t been purposefully difficult or nagging, there’s been no yelling, no talk of plans for tonight or the upcoming weekend, no talk of anything outside of work. And that’s just, not good. 

Danny shouldn’t be thrown off by that, by the fact that he is simply working with his work partner, but he totally is. Everything feels stilted and oddly formal. Almost like the first day they worked together. But even that day had more emotion than what Steve is putting out right now. Danny chances a glance over at his partner, Steve’s face is completely schooled back to perfect composure. Not giving anything away. Almost like he was trying to reconstruct a wall that Danny had already tore down. Danny feels like shoving that mask of a face through the windshield. But Danny can sure as hell take a hint when he needs to. He absolutely isn’t going to mess with that face right now. Not when Steve’s looking like he’s about to single-handedly invade a country. No, he’s fine waiting this one out, thanks. 

So they drive all the way back to HQ without one word passing between them. As they pull up into a parking spot, Danny’s convinced that if he just stays in the car as Steve moves to get out and make his way into his office, Steve wouldn’t even notice he was missing. And when that very thing happens, when Steve gets out of the Camaro and fucking locks Danny into the car, he has moved way past frustrated questioning to outright anger. He doesn’t care what the hell is going on with Steve, doesn’t even want to try to piece it together anymore, he’d settle for just being acknowledged. 

It’s not that Steve’s behavior was totally without precedence, the man did tend to get a little cold and distant whenever the team had stretched themselves too thin or found themselves in an incredibly stressful situation. But neither of those things were happening right now. And he’s certainly never increased the assholery to this level of nonsense. It was kind of an open-and-shut case as far as homicides go. There wasn’t even one gun drawn or building to jump off of the whole day. Everything was just weird and off and frustrating and Danny gave himself one hell of a pep talk about holding it together for the rest of the day before deciding to actually get out the car (unlock his own goddamn door) and trail after his partner. 

The case is easily wrapped before dinnertime. Which almost never happens. The suspect didn’t even try to hide or run and confessed without even having to drag him into the dungeon/interrogation room. And Danny feels horrible labeling a homicide as ‘easy’ but really, maybe Five-0 is just used to a higher class of criminal. Not homicidal maniacs that leave their prints everywhere and keep the murder weapon in their car. So the case is closed. But Danny’s incredibly confusing day isn’t. Just as Kono begins to suggest that they should all go out for dinner and drinks, Steve just leaves. Just walks out. Danny isn’t even paying attention to whatever excuse Steve is using to get out of spending time with them, he’s just angry. The moment the door clicks shut behind Steve’s exit, Danny rounds on his other team members. 

“Did you see that? What the hell was that? He’s been like that all day.” Danny articulates, mostly with his hands, from his spot leaning up against the tech table. 

“Like what?” Chin asks him, already filing out some post-workups on his tablet. 

“Oh come on, you know,” Danny starts, "with the broodiness and the indifference and the whole super serious act.” He doesn’t scoff, but it’s a near thing. 

“You think maybe he’s just a little out of it after what happened?” Kono asks as she closes the rest of the open tabs on the various displays. "That’s understandable.”

“Understandable, yes. But I think he’s more than a little out of it.” A lot of out it, if Danny was being honest. "He’s been in ninja mode all day and hasn’t cracked once.” And locked me in the fucking car, goes unsaid. 

“Did you ask him about it?” Chin sets his tablet down, and Danny’s happy that Chin actually looks concerned, and yes, asking Steve would have been a very logical thing to do, but no, Danny wouldn’t bring it up when Steve kept not looking at him like that. Just completely vacant. 

“No. We didn’t even talk at all. About anything. Didn’t even argue once."

“Well that’s certainly unusual.” Kono’s bubble of laughter pulls him out of his hard stare aimed at the tech table. 

“That’s what I’m saying! You guys would tell me if I did or said something stupid, right? Because I’ve been sitting on this all day and I haven’t been able to piece together what the hell is the matter with him.” 

“I haven’t noticed anything. And you know I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you if you did something stupid.” Kono playfully bumps their shoulders together and Danny briefly considers that maybe he had been just completely over-analyzing the entire day. But Danny’s so not that guy. He’s a detective, sure, but he values actions and words over nonverbals any day. 

Chin must see something on his face because he adds a meaningful, “Give it some time, brah. Everything will be okay.”

He’s back to staring hard at the tech table. After maybe a few minutes of sulking, or really, it could have been hours he’s not really sure, Chin walks by on his way out the door with Kono and squeezes his shoulder, giving him a hopeful smile. 

And see, Danny has never really been good at the whole ‘just give it some time and space’ philosophy. He’d much rather approach a problem head-on. So he texts Steve as he’s packing up his stuff and heading out of the office for the night. And again when he’s back at this apartment. And once more right before he falls asleep. 

He doesn’t receive any responses.


	4. Steve POV

He doesn’t bother with the lights as he trudges into his house. The sun’s already set, so no solace will be found on his lanai. He settles for climbing the stairs to his bedroom, no matter how much he hurts. And it does hurt, everything hurts, so much it makes him dizzy. And that’s not just the alcohol talking. He’s nursing that kind of unsatisfactory tipsiness that comes from angrily drinking by oneself. So he passes out face first on his bed, panting and shaking from the effort, not bothering with his shoes as he just lays there uselessly. 

His head is throbbing but his thoughts are quite clear. It’s different. This time, its much different. Steve’s never really came back from active duty so he doesn’t have an ‘after’ to compare this to, but he knows it just feels different. He went straight from a mission to jumping into Five-0. Moving quickly, covering it all is what he tries to do so there is no ‘after.’ 

He’s been briefed enough times in the Navy and has seen enough therapists to have a sort of handle on his PTSD. [Heavy on the sort of.] He’s competent on what he needs to avoid, his ‘triggers’, and what he needs to do when it flares up, his ‘strategies’. But this is different and that makes him frustrated because in Steve McGarrett’s list of traumatic events being tortured by Wo Fat doesn’t even crack the top three. Can someone please tell his brain that? Because he can’t stop thinking about it. It replays over and over and over and over constantly rolling in the back of his mind. He closes his eyes. A blow to the ribs. When he was driving to the bar, he forced each breath in and out as normally as he could because his own labored, gasping, panting breath rang in his ears. The mental images didn’t blur as he gulped back drink after drink. If anything they became more unrealistic and horrible. He took a cab back to his place and intimidated the driver into not taking him to the hospital despite all of his obvious pain and the way he kept glancing over his shoulder and scanning the tree lines. 

His face down on his bed, willing his mind to just shut off but when its obvious it won’t he lapses into bad habits. Contain. He pushes everything else out of his head. There’s just this case. The case that Five-O wrapped so efficiently. There can only be work right now. Tomorrow will bring a new case and he can put his mind to work on that. He needs to focus on accomplishing tasks and ignore, ignore, ignore. Contain. He runs through this latest case in his head, start to finish, noting where there could have been improvements. Contain. Ignore. 

He swears he can smell the rust of the chains. He tenses for impact. 

Its not real. He wants to scream it. Wants to write it across his skin so maybe his body will understand it. Its not real. Its over. He’s home. He digs his hands deep into his duvet cover. He’s home. 

He hears the crackle of the electric shock stick charging. 

Wait no, that’s just his phone. 

He digs it out of his pant’s pocket and painfully stretches his arm close to his head so he can see the screen. 2 missed texts from Danno. He huffs out a long breath through his nose and he’s suddenly so exhausted. 

 

[5:45pm] Hey, you feeling okay today? Seemed a little off at work. Wanna grab some dinner? 

[8:32pm] Guess that’s a no. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? 

 

Steve powers down his phone and throws it. He hears it bounce on the carpet and skid into the wall. He can’t. He can’t deal with Danny right now. Absolutely not going down that road tonight. Its not going to happen and if he could just get his stupid brain to wrap around that fact maybe he won’t fuck up the one solid friendship he’s had in years. Its just concern for a coworker, he tells himself for probably the a hundredth time in the past two days. He just needs to stop thinking. Needs to stop feeling. Stop remembering. He can’t, its too tempting, and his brain isn’t allowing him to not remember, to not feel, to not regret. Between the two nightmares he picks the lesser of two evils and falls asleep remembering the sound of Grace’s high-pitched squeals of laughter and the touch of soft petals. 

 

///

 

[11:53pm] Hope you’re okay. Call if you need to. Good night, Steve.


	5. Danny POV

Danny’s equal parts vehemently angry with and sick with worry over Steve. A day of silent treatment, fine. Not fine, but understandable. A few unanswered texts, alright. Again, not really alright but not panic-inducing. Six missed calls, nearing the border of panic-inducing. Steve not showing up for work the next day and no one knowing a thing about what’s going on, way passed panic-inducing, induced panic, and mixed with limitless fury. 

He will not be ignored. Come hell or high water there will always be a spare second to fire off a text to let his goddamn partner know he hasn’t been kidnapped (again) or worse. 

Danny’s mind fixates on the or worse as he makes it into his office that morning, ready to call the fucking National Guard if necessary. 

His eyes freeze on the foreign envelope sitting on his desk. He just knows, he just knows it says ‘Danno’ and it heart fucking sinks. 

Steve’s gone.

Danny reads that stupid letter and immediately regrets not ripping apart Steve’s passport when he had the chance. He knew that wouldn’t have stopped him permanently, but maybe it would at least brought up a conversation. A conversation that Danny didn’t get. And he just doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get any of it. Sure he understands Steve’s reasoning, but that doesn’t make any easier to stomach. Because he’s not surprised, really, and that’s the part that doesn’t sit right with him. Some sick part of Danny was just waiting for something like this to happen, for Steve to take things just a step too far and throw himself into something too dangerous. But Danny, he, well, he thought Steve knew he had backup. Real, trustworthy backup that cared about him and would help. No matter how insane the plan, Five-0 would be there. It was kind of their thing. Danny thought Steve knew that. 

Fuck solo missions. There is always time to call for support. Yeah, Danny could see Steve snapping and needing to figure out everything about his past right this very second. But he also could see himself helping when that time came. But hey, Steve is going to do exactly what Steve thought he needed to do, that was a constant truth. And sure, Danny might have tried to talk him out of it but he would have also been there to make sure whatever plan Steve was cooking up was strategic and coherent. He didn’t even want to think about Steve wandering around the streets of god-knows-where just looking for a fight or someone to shoot. Because yes, he didn’t get it, he’s frustrated and maybe a little hurt but more than anything he’s scared. Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, super SEAL, expert ninja, obnoxious know-it-all, is many things, but he is not bulletproof. And riding with a barely there self-preservation instinct to begin with, combined with a conflict of interest that will impair his logical thinking, and mixed with the fact that Steve is still only functioning at about 80% is enough to make Danny panic call him about ten times in the first few minutes after reading that goddamn letter. 

Throughout the day the urge to contact Steve never lessens. He’s only distracted by the case their working on. And he could really do without the looks his teams members keep throwing him when he keeps checking his phone. 

Then days pass. And there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

And Danny’s spiraling. Not one word. Not one fucking phone call that tells Danny that his partner isn’t dead. Or captured. Or being fucking tortured in some part of the world that he never wants to set foot in ever again. And he’s angry. Like blindly angry because Steve is being an inconsiderate asshat. How hard is it to send one text? Huh? He’d settle for a fucking postcard at this point. He’s done trying to sort this thing out. It doesn’t have to make sense him, fine, whatever, he’s accepted that. But he needs Steve to be okay. He can’t even think about the possibility of Steve being not okay. God knows he’s dreamt about it every night since his partner decided to up and leave. A week passes and he’s in a sustained state of unwilling acceptance, a coping mechanism, he tells himself. 

Because Danny refuses to let his life fall apart because of one Steve McGarrett. No. He has other things that deserve his attention. He has a job, one that he is actually good at. He has a family and while its getting harder and harder to field Grace’s questions as to why they haven’t seen Steve in a while, why Steve isn't answering her texts regarding her science homework, he has Grace and she comes first before anything else in his life. 

And yes, speaking of constant truths, that’s Danny’s anchor. Grace above all else. But she’s good. She’s fine. She’s safe. And he needs Steve to be all of those things too. 

But then. Then they’re working that potential epidemic case and its stressful enough to take his mind out of the constant rotation of 'Steve’s the worst, Steve’s dead I miss Steve, Steve needs to come home' which he’s grateful for. And then, just as soon as its gone it comes screaming back, full stop. He’s talking to the quarantined mother of two who’s ex-husband contracted the very virus they're trying to prevent from breaking out and everything slots into place. 

 

“I figured he’d gone back to his dark place again.” 

"What, uh, what does that mean? What’s his dark place?"

“It started to happen after he got back from Afghanistan. He drinks, holes himself up, he doesn’t talk to anybody for days. Its pretty awful.” 

 

Dark place. Danny’s got a deadly outbreak to prevent before it hits the island but his mind keeps tripping over ‘dark place’. He resolves to examine it in full detail after Five-0 catches these goons and Hawai’i is not in danger of a dangerous contagion. He can be reasonable. 

And because his team is the best team in the entire world (even though, right now, that team only consists of him, Chin and Kono, it doesn’t matter, they’re still the best), they do stop the bad guys. And it was a near thing, he’s not going to lie. There were a few heart-stopping moments of sheer panic. He’s a good enough cop to admit it. But, they closed the case and that’s really all that matter right now. They are all back at HQ, looking around all dazed and vibrating with the last bits of adrenaline. If they were into that sort of thing, it would be a total group hug moment. But Danny clamps down that suggestion. Chin and Kono look like they’re both about to drop from exhaustion. And Danny’s only a few steps behind them. But its a win for them. A good win, one that makes his profession of constantly risking his life sort of worth it. And they made be half-dead but that won’t stop them from trying to go out for celebratory drinks. 

Danny begs off under the premise of mountains of paperwork that apparently no one else remembers how to fill out, Chin and Kono look a little relieved when he doesn’t want to come out, both saying they’re just going to go home as well. He does manage to crank out a few pages, for the principle of the thing, before he packs up his stuff and heads back to his apartment. 

Grace is staying with Rachel on the mainland, and he calls for his ‘good night Danno’ before collapsing through his front door. He shrugs out of his work clothes and into some comfy sweats and grabs a beer before depositing himself at his table/desk and staring at his computer screen. Dark place. It comes flooding back to him. 

He’s had his fair share of dark places. Losing his first partner. The divorce. The aftermath of the divorce. Watching Matt leave. But he thinks back to the quarantined mother’s word from earlier that day. They didn’t paint the picture of his own dark places, rather they likened to something he remembers hearing about during his department mandated trauma therapy after he fatally shot a suspect for the first time back in Jersey. He will always remember that day, that scene, the first time he killed someone. And it was hard, yes, it was new and terrifying and he felt guilty despite the suspect being guilty of murder, it was a mess but he got through it. And he’s good. He will never get used to it because no one should get used to it. But he listened to the doc, did his mandated time in therapy, and came out stronger. But some things stuck with him. Some things the therapist told him to look out for should he develop a stress-related response to the event, should he experience the symptoms of PTSD. He can’t remember all of them nor what exactly PTSD actually is, he just remembers being told to set up another appointment if he started having recurring nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety over using his weapon again … that sort of thing. He never needed to, but the connecting this to the comment about dark places and Steve’s general behavior before he up and vanished - well, that’s why he’s sitting in front of his laptop. Browser pulled up, ready for entry. 

Danny’s not sure if what he’s about to do will be crossing some sort of invisible line, but then again, who’s going to find out? 

Something is off with Steve. Something is happening and Danny has no idea what it is and its incredibly frustrating to feel so useless and now Steve’s gone and all Danny can think about is how weird his partner had been the weeks leading up to his disappearance. He should have said something, should of done something. But he had no idea what he was dealing with. 

There’s a part of him that knows, with the upmost conviction, that Steve is fine right now. In his element, even. He knows that Steve's going to come back after he sorts out whatever it is he’s looking for. It’s McGarrett, after all, he’ll be fine. And Danny knows it and he clings on to the fact every night as he falls asleep that Steve’s probably been through a lot worse and can handle himself. 

Its a combination of these two facts, the guilt of inaction and the blind faith that Steve will come home soon, that has Danny typing “PTSD symptoms” into the search bar. 

Three beers and about two dozen articles later Danny has completely fallen down the rabbit hole of online research. Its so Steve. Everything that he reads, its Steve. And Danny finds himself needing to soak up as much as he can so he can be better prepared for it next time around. Because Steve is coming home. And if Danny thought he had problems before, he can only imagine what post- 'I just found out all of my family’s deepest darkest secrets' Steve will look like. Danny's mind is buzzing with new information and he’s taking notes like a madman, saving articles for reference, even printing out a few that seem essential. Its helpful, its so helpful and more than that it’s almost relieving. Someone he cares for is hurting, and he couldn’t do anything about it earlier. Because he didn’t know. And of course he still doesn’t know now, but at least he’s better informed. He’s read a few articles on how to bring up talking about PTSD with someone close to you, and you can bet that right after Danny handcuffs Steve to himself for the rest of time, they’re going to have a nice, long discussion about it. Well, he’s not going to force it. The handcuffs, yes, he’s absolutely going to force. And he’s not going to waste anytime shredding every last one of Steve’s passport and legal documents this time around. But he’s not going to force the talking. He’s learned that pressuring someone to talk about it can be extremely counter-productive. He’ll just have to find a way to be convincing. 

Danny guesses that it’s probably going to be after a whole lot of yelling about partner curtesy and a few ‘what the hell is the matter with you’ with a couple ‘you couldn’t pick up the goddamn phone one time?’ for good measure. Because he’s still angry. Still riding that tenuous balance of passive unwilling acceptance and aggressive ranting and raving about the gigantic meatball that is Steve McGarrett. But then, then they’ll talk. 

Steve just has to come home first.


	6. Steve POV

He’s home. He’s home and he’s in Danny’s car and Danny’s driving him home and Danny’s next to him and it so much like every other time it hurts. 

“Uh, okay big guy, this is you.” He watches Danny’s fingers flex over the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. Neither makes a move to open their doors. Steve did something wrong. Obviously. Steve did something wrong or else Danny would have already marched inside his house like he owned the place and commandeered both the remote and the warmest blanket that’s draped over the back of Steve’s couch like he always does. Danny would talk and laugh and being right there and he’d be safe and Steve would be okay. But he made Danny upset and now Danny doesn’t want to come in. 

A few hours ago his helicopter touched down, Five-0 came as back up, Danny booked Wo Fat, mission accomplished. Steve did something good, he finished the task. He could relax. A few hours ago he allowed himself to come home. To believe he was home. And his team was there. Kono pulled him into a too tight hug that made him feel guilty. Chin looked relieved and very worried, which Steve couldn’t understand because they had Wo Fat in custody. And Danny, Danny - grabbed his arm and Steve needed to close his eyes and count to ten. His team was there, with him. And they were all safe. And it was so much like the last time this scene played out Steve really didn’t want to think about it. 

Except this time he wasn’t badly injured. Steve didn’t have any open wounds that Danny would see to mending. If he knew that’s what it took to make Danny stay, Steve would have let a few more of Wo Fat’s punches get through during their struggle. 

He completed the mission and now he could rest. And he really, really wanted to rest. Because he could and because he was ready to drop. Every reservoir felt depleted. He might have pushed his body’s limits too far this time. If the way it protested when he tried to breathe, move, think - was any signal to go by. He’d never admit it but all he wanted to do right now is collapse out on his lanai and stay there until he could only hear the waves, smell the salt, and feel the evening’s breeze and then the sunshine. He wanted to close his eyes and feel the black night melt into the dawning sky, trust the transition to happen and sense the morning’s first light in his bones. He wanted to rest. Until he could renew in the currents of home. He’s been on longer, more complex ops than apprehending Wo Fat. But this one was by far the most personal. And Steve didn’t really know what to do now that it was over. Didn’t like the fact that although he succeeded, he wasn’t experiencing the usual adrenaline rush of a job well done, it was over but it did nothing to help the deep-seated pain he carried. Steve was tired. Brain overworked from being in survival mode for too long. He was drained. Muscles hurting in a way that told him he’d been holding them tensed for too long. 

Control, he needed a control. A fixed point so he can reestablish his stasis. He needed to be home, he needed his beach. But that wasn’t all. With Danny still sitting in the driver’s seat not making any inclinations to come inside, he knew that he wasn’t going to feel at home in his own house if he entered it alone. He needed Danny. Which was confusing for two reasons. First, he’s not sure when he consciously linked Danny to home, if ever he did, but if he looked closely at whatever flared up in his chest when it became apparent that Danny was just trying to drop him off, he’s sure he’d find an answer. And second, needing a person is not something that Steve is used to. And it fucking terrifies him. 

Danny’s still not looking at him. His eyes still staring straight out the dashboard, mouth pinched at the corners. “You can’t sleep in the Camaro, babe. You’re too monstrous. You can’t even sit still in a stake-out for more than an hour. I promise you’ll be happier sleeping in your bed.” 

He’s getting kicked out. He’s getting kicked out of the car and then Danny will drive away and then Steve will be in his empty house and Danny won’t be with him or yelling about bodily care or ordering terrible takeout or drinking all his beer or putting his hands on him or falling asleep on his couch and that is not what he wants. That’s so not what he wants but he doesn’t think he can ask for it because he doesn’t know those words. Never used those words before. Never meant them they way he wants to mean them right now. 

Danny is angry and Steve made him angry. And thankfully, Steve knows some of these words. 

“I’m sorry.” 

But they’re the wrong words. He thinks. Because Danny finally, finally looks at him for the first time in what feels like months and Steve’s breaking because Danny doesn’t look angry anymore, Danny looks hurt and Steve made him look that way. Steve turns to stare out the passenger seat window. 

He hears Danny shift in his seat. “And what are you sorry for?” Danny’s voice is quiet, so quiet but its the expectancy that makes Steve face him again. "Because you better be sorry. You better be real fucking sorry because let me tell you something Steve, you do not, I repeat, do not get to just write me a goddamn note saying you’re leaving and think that’s okay.” Steve watches Danny’s eyes flash bright and he feels his throat tighten. "Because its not okay,” Danny continues, "its so very much not okay because I’m your partner and I deserve to know when my moronic partner decides its a good time to abandon his team and go after a highly dangerous terrorist by himself. So, tell me Steve, what are you sorry for?" 

Its a challenge, Steve knows this. Danny isn’t entirely after a blanket apology. It still doesn’t make the words any easier to push out of his mouth. But he can do this. He can because the alternative is an empty house. And he’s been running from his empty house every since he decided to chase Wo Fat. 

"I am, I really am sorry, Danny.” Steve frowns, he should have said Danno. “But if I told you in person you would have tried to talk me out of it and-"

“Steve.” Danny cuts him off and sends him a warning look. Right, okay. "What are you sorry for?"

He holds himself rigid in the passenger seat. Steve’s sorry for a lot of things. Mainly for putting that look on Danny’s face, but for many more things. He’s not really sure which ones Danny wants to hear. He never really knows what Danny wants to hear. But its usually easy between them. But this, talking to him like this, feels uneven and tenuous. He doesn’t want that. He wants the bickering and the arguing and the sighs. Not this. 

“Steve?” And its so small. Its so quiet and it sounds like Danny’s standing on the shore trying to pull him out from sea. He’s sorry for a lot of things but he knows what he’s most sorry for. 

Steve grips his knees. "I’m sorry for leaving." 

And he won’t look at Danny. BUD/s training did not teach him that kind of strength. He can hear Danny shift next to him. Closer. 

"And why are you sorry for that?"

He can do this. He has to. It’s Danny. He’s been thinking about this for two whole weeks and he won’t let it slip away because he’s bad with words. Two deep breaths and he keeps gripping his knees like its the only thing holding him together. "Because I should have told you in person.” 

Danny’s intake of breath is noisy and weirdly final. “Excellent.” Danny claps his hands together and that makes Steve turn to face him because something is coloring the other man’s voice and its not hurt or pain or anger. "Now, think about this next one,” Danny continues and leans closer and he looks very serious and very Danny and right fucking there that Steve doubts he could look away if he tried, “think very carefully before you answer, Steven. What are you going to do differently in the future?” Danny asks and looks expectantly up at him, intently, holding his gaze and effectively pinning Steve right where he sits. 

Steve’s entranced. He can smell Danny this close and Danny fucking smells like his beach and its too much and he has these words, he knows what Danny is asking, "I’m going to tell you in person before I leave.” 

Danny smiles and all Steve can think about is apparently all Williamses have the ability to make him melt on the spot. 

"That was beautiful. Thank you.” Danny leans back into his seat and he’s laughing and Steve’s breathing again. “Really, thanks. You’re not off the hook though. I’ll come up with something really creative for your penance. Now get out of my car and get some rest, you look terrible.” 

Steve’s too busy attempting to bite back his 'I’ll do anything' response that he says, "You’re not coming in?” against his own volition. 

He freezes. Danny freezes. And they’re back to shaky ground. Steve wants to bang his head on the dashboard. 

"Do you want me to come in?” Danny asks, sounding so unsure Steve snarls his frustration in the back of his throat. Because really, he might be out of words for the day. Maybe even for the week. 

Danny’s head snaps so quickly in his direction its almost comical. “Did you,” he looks so concerned and delighted in that way only Danny can look, "did you just growl at me?” Danny laughs, and its just a burst of noise, accompanied by a smirk Steve’s been missing. And wow, he really must have it bad but he’d rather not dive into that mess of a problem tonight. No, that’s too much. 

Steve smiles despite himself. Because its good. They’re good. Danny’s still angry with him but they can get through it. “Not at you.” Steve starts and huffs out laughter at Danny’s unconvinced face, "But yes. You should come in. That’s what you said.” 

"I said what?"

"You said that you’d always stay." 

Danny looks at him suddenly, speechless. Steve watches in awe and slight horror that he said the exact wrong thing as Danny tries to work his jaw into forming words. He should probably just get out the car now. Danny lets out a long sigh. 

"I guess I did say that, huh?” He’s smiling. He’s barely smiling but it definitely counts and he’s smiling at Steve. Steve could actually pass out right this second and that’d honestly be fine by him. "Did I happen to say what I should do when I’m upset with you because you’re a giant goof?"

Steve breathes out. This part is easy. Banter. He’s got this. “Yeah, you did. You said that if that happens, you’d still stay but that I had to make you breakfast in the morning." 

"That does sound like something I would say.” The look Danny gives him in one he’s never seen before and Steve falters. 

“I-It was. Scout’s honor." 

And Danny just beams. And its blinding. And Steve’s not breathing again. "Well if its on your honor,” Danny mumbles with a delightfully small smile as he opens the door and steps out of the car. 

 

….

 

Steve’s home. He’s home and the warm night air is wrapping around his worn-out body and the waves are just right there and Danny’s just right there and his eyelids are losing a battle of consciousness and he’s warm, warm, safe, and home. Danny’s talking. But that’s fine. He likes when Danny talks. Steve lets out a great yawn and burrows deeper into the cushions of his lounge chair out on the lanai. His whole body doesn’t really fit on it but that’s not the point. Plus he’s tired enough to drop anywhere. 

“Okay so, no judgement because I know you’re not functioning on all cylinders right now, but you do know that you bypassed both the steps leading up to your bed and the couch in the living room, right?"

Of course he knows, that was the plan.

“Mmmhmm."

"And yet instead of either of those normal options you’re out here in what can’t possibly be a comfortable enough lawn chair." 

Steve pats the one next to him. "It’s not a lawn chair its a lounge chair.”

"Oh, well, excuse me.” Danny sits. 

"Can we just stay out here a little longer?” Steve says into his beach-towel-pillow. 

"Yeah, buddy. We can do that. I’ll grab you a blanket."

“Hmmm." 

 

…

 

Steve wakes to a quilt being draped over him. Danny. “Thanks.” He’s too tired to open his eyes but hopefully Danny heard him. 

"You’re really going to sleep out here aren’t ya?"

"Uh-huh."

"Fine. Then I’m taking your bed."

"’S fine." 

 

… 

 

He wakes up again when he feels a hand push through his hair. 

“Steve?”

Its gentle though, and its warm, and so nice that Steve doesn’t bolt awake. Maybe it will continue. 

“Steve?"

“Danno?"

"Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again."

"I won’t. I won’t."


	7. Danny POV

Danny rested his forearms against the coffee shop’s small counter, letting it take his weight, and released his best long-suffering sigh. If Steve felt like going ballistic on the manger for not installing surveillance cameras after the store’s second break-in (and therefore all but killing Five-0’s chances of getting an ID on their suspect), well, Danny was at least going to let the strapping young barista make him a flavored iced tea while he waited. 

“Geez, he’s brutal.” Said strapping young barista as he nodded in the direction of Steve’s Commander voice filtering out from the shop’s back office. Danny winced in sympathy, of course the dude should look into security cameras but perhaps Steve didn’t need to be yelling that loudly. Danny watched the barista shake up his iced tea concoction and pour it over ice.

“You have no idea.” He rolled his eyes and stabbed his waiting straw into the cup as the barista passed it over. 

“Oh yeah?” The kid sounded amused, and really, that was adorable. Like the worse thing Steve McGarrett has ever done was bully a coffee shop manager into installing decent security. 

“Uh yeah. I once saw him make a kid cry because she didn’t look both ways before crossing the street.” Danny confessed, taking a long pull from the iced tea and barely managing to hold back a delighted moan, it was really fucking good. 

“You’re kidding!” The barista gasped out, eyes bugging out in disbelief and letting a few giggles escape. Again, adorable. Danny just shook his head and smiled around his straw. Danny wasn’t the biggest tea drinker but even he knew this stuff was good; it was almost syrupy sweet but not too much that it was overbearing, Danny tasted a hint of mint that made the entire drink pretty damn refreshing. 

And then Steve just bolts out of the office. Out of the office, around the bar, and through the door. In such a flurry of unexpected movement that Danny is still leaning up against the counter when the front door bangs shut behind his partner. But it wasn’t Steve’s I’m-chasing-after-a-criminal-and-will-likely-jump-through-a-window sprint, it was angrier and stiffer.

And that made Danny a lot more anxious than the normal throwing-myself-out-of-windows-recklessly run. Great. He started moving towards the door.

“Uh, thank you for your time,” he awkwardly called to the manager, who was now standing confusedly at the register, “and thank you for the drink!” he shouted over his shoulder to the equally confused-looking barista as he headed out of the door in search of Steve. 

He hit the sidewalk and scanned the street, no luck. He jogged down to where the Camaro was parked, no Steve. Panicking just a little, because what the hell - Danny desperately searched up and down the street again cursing Steve out loud because if that giant meatball stranded him without the keys, he was going to pay for it in strange and unusual ways. He forced himself to stop, slow down and breathe. Steve couldn’t have gotten far in the few minutes that have passed. Right, okay, Danny sipped his iced tea. So, he had to be close. Close and probably - Danny played back the way in which Steve booked it from the store, like he was running away rather than running to something - probably somewhere empty. Something clicked in the back of Danny’s mind and he took off back towards the coffee shop and didn’t stop until he circled back behind the building, in the alleyway that separated the storefronts on either side of the block. He froze when he reached the entrance to the alleyway. Sure enough, there was Steve. Standing in the middle of alleyway, about 60 feet away from Danny, a little bit hunched over with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

It so surreal, Danny’s never seen Steve like this and it terrifies him right to the bone. Danny doesn’t recognize the lines of his body, they’re too stooped and rigid. Doesn’t recognize this posture, the way Steve’s holding himself, and sure he’s read a shitload about triggers and flashbacks but none of that has prepared him for the moment Steve notices him and looks up at him. Danny sees no recognition in Steve’s eyes. 

But he starts moving towards him anyway. Slowly, so slowly. Danny watches Steve slump against the wall. 

“Hey, okay, it’s okay. It’s me, Steve. Danny. It’s just me.” Danny drops his voice low, aiming for something like the voice he uses to soothe Grace’s nightmares away. Danny has no idea what Steve is capable of when he’s like this. He holds tight to the blind faith he has in the idea that Steve would never intentionally hurt him. 

“Yeah, it’s just Danny. We’re good, alright? You wanna tell me what’s going on?" Danny keeps approaching and Steve keeps pushing himself further into the wall. “Steve, you okay? Steve?” Danny finally gets within a few feet of his partner and his heart just stops. Steve looks wrecked. He’s panting like he just ran a marathon, every movement looking labored and defensive, curling himself against the wall as if its his only protection. His eyes keep flitting towards Danny and Steve’s shoving his jaw forward, defiantly. Jesus fuck. Steve thinks Danny’s about to hit him. Danny’s throat closes up. He coughs and forces out words he prays to god get through. 

“Steve? Hey, babe, it’s Danny. You’re okay. You’re fine. Steve, its okay.” Danny is consumed with the need to touch, the physical need to be connected. He raises his arm so slowly, so carefully, hoping Steve isn’t about to snatch it and break it in half. “We’re good, we’re safe.” He lets his hand gently fall on Steve’s shoulder, amazed Steve didn’t immediately shake it off. “Yeah, okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He repeats over and over again. “Can you tell me where you are right now?” 

Steve’s eyes snap towards him, his face is a study of frustrated confusion. And Danny fights the overwhelming urge to just pull him in. Just hold him until this all over, like he does with Grace when the tears seem to never stop. He breathes deeply twice and tentatively moves his hand and slides it down Steve’s arm in the most comforting way possible. When Steve doesn’t pull away, he repeats the motion. 

“We’re in Honolulu, right? It’s at least two hundred degrees outside today and you were just screaming at a business owner, remember? Good times.” Danny keeps rubbing up and down Steve’s arm and watches the other man look around, scanning the area, eyes widening. When Steve finally looks back down at him, Danny could honestly cry. 

“Danno?” It comes out rough and a little flat but Danny thinks it’s never sounded better. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” The relief nearly knocks him on his ass. His hand slides back up and grips Steve’s shoulder. “It’s me. Are you okay?” 

Steve doesn’t answer that, just keeps looking Danny up and down as if to make sure he’s actually standing there. He stops when he spots the cup Danny is still holding in his left hand and scrunches up his face in a way that Danny absolutely doesn’t find adorable. 

“Iced tea?” Steve asks and nods in the direction of the drink. 

Danny lets out an enormous breath, because Steve is here, he’s back, he’s good, they’re fine, they can talk about tea that’s fine, “Yeah babe, you want some? Its actually really good.” He shakes it encouragingly and despite Steve shaking his head he hands it over. Steve guzzles it down. 

“Alright hot stuff, tell ya what. You finish that one, stay here and come to or whatever. And I’ll go grab two more.” Danny moves his hand up to the side of Steve’s neck, then under his jaw and finally drifting up the side of his face and ghosting a thumb against his cheekbone. He locks gazes with Steve and waits until Steve gives the briefest of nods. 

He all but turns and runs out of there. Later he’ll tell himself its because Steve probably didn’t want him hanging around, watching him as he pulled himself back together. But he knows in this moment he needed to get out of there before he did smother Steve with more touches, more hopefully soothing words, more of anything that Steve would be embarrassed about later. 

When Danny leaves the coffee shop for the second time that day, fresh iced teas in either hand, and emotions squarely in check, he’s relieved to find Steve learning up against the Camaro parked on the street. Looking for all the world like the normal, confident, everyday Steve McGarrett Hawaii has come to expect as their fearless law enforcer. Danny squints but hold his tongue. Instead he walks over, hands a cup to Steve, who hits him with the goofy lopsided smile, which is wholly unfair, and slides into the driver’s seat. Danny follows suit and a few minutes later they’re cruising back down to HPD in complete silence. And Danny doesn’t do silence very well. Especially when he’s feeling whiplashed. 

“Are you-“

“Danny, I’m fine.”

“Okay, but really, what-“

“It’s nothing.” 

Danny shoots Steve a glare because seriously what the fuck is the matter with this guy, but Steve’s staring out the window. Sure, he can spot a dismissal when he’s sees one but like hell if Steve’s getting out of talking about this. 

“Nothing!? It’s nothing? You call that nothing?” Danny snaps, “Because I don’t call that nothing. I would definitely call that something. With a capital S.”

Steve doesn’t even turn to face him and Danny vividly recalls that first night. Steve standing in his kitchen bleeding on the wood floors and telling Danny he doesn’t need any help. 

There are so many things he wants to say, so many questions he has, so many things he needs Steve to hear, but maybe that time is not now. And certainly not like this. Danny hates that when he gets frustrated, he gets angry. He’s frustrated because he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to make Steve talk, doesn’t know how to make things better without crossing some invisible line Steve and him have been skirting around. And all of it is so confusing but yet so simple at the same time. Danny doesn’t understand what the hell is going on with this Steve, but he knows his Steve. And he tells himself to hold on to that. 

When they pull up to headquarters, Steve parks and Danny jumps out of the car. He rounds the front of the Camaro and when Steve slides out of the driver's seat and shuts the door Danny doesn’t even hesitate to pull him down into a tight hug. Steve goes still under him but Danny just holds tighter. He pulls back just enough to look Steve in the eye, 

“You don’t have to hide this from me, Steve. You got that? I’m here, for whatever.” He swallows down the rest of what’s threatening to escape, nods once to Steve, and turns to head into the office. 

 

///

 

Danny Williams is not a patient person. It’s just not in his blood. There’s a decision to make, he’ll make it. There’s something he needs to do, he’ll do it. When he has to wait on other people or on the universe in general, his limit tops out at about three minutes. And then things get messy. 

That day, when their suspect foolishly jumps off the pier as a means to escape and Danny watches Steve immediately kick off his boots and strip out of his black (and always too tight) t-shirt so he can fluidly dive into the ocean after the suspect, Danny’s so far gone he can barely see light at the end of his miserable tunnel. 

The messiest, longest three minutes of his life have been stretched out for nearly two years and they’re about to snap. He’s about to snap. 

And then Steve’s standing in the middle of Danny’s office, dripping all over his nice carpet, cargo pants and the same (too tight) t-shirt clinging to his body in impossible ways, asking Danny about the pictures tacked to his wall that Grace drew for him with such intense curiosity that Danny can’t breathe and can’t think past we would be so good. He short-circuits. 

Danny’s falling. Correction, he’s already fallen. He’s not ignorant to the fact that its pretty much all over for him. He can’t throw the switch the other way and desperately doesn’t want to either. The way he feels is so overwhelming and nauseating that he knows its only a matter of time before all of things he’s gotten used to pushing down finally rebel and he’ll bust at the seems. 

Because Steve is just right there. And he has been right there for so long. And will continue to be right there, at work, at his house, at Danny’s house, for hopefully a very long time. But its different this time. It feels different. Danny’s used to the attraction. Shit, he suspects most Hawaiians, and god only knows how many others all of the damn world, are used to the attraction that one Steven McGarrett tends to give off whenever he’s, you know, breathing. The physical attraction he can deal with. The guy’s gorgeous, yeah, and Danny climb him like a tree at the drop of a hat but that’s not what this is about anymore. Yeah, Steve is right there, but Danny knows all too well what it feels like when Steve isn’t right there anymore - and that thought is a hundred times more terrifying. 

So no, he can’t handle Steve being so visibly caring and loving with his kid. He can’t handle Steve’s intense concern when a stray bullet hits Danny’s kevlar. Can’t handle not being outwardly comforting when everything in Steve’s body language screams for touch. Because he knows Steve. And he knows what it feels like to want Steve. And he knows what its like to lose him, and to get him back, and to never want to lose him ever again. 

So he’s still falling, apparently. Falling fast and hard and he’s about to crash and burn. He’s gonna blow up like the Williams firework he is and paint the Hawaiian sky with great flashes of light and burst of colors as he falls apart. At least it will be a show. Hopefully Grace will understand her father’s spontaneous combustion. Maybe Chin will explain it to her in those calming tones he has about him. Telling her how her father was a massive idiot in the most reassuring way possible. Maybe he should preemptively explain it to Chin, you know, just he case he doesn’t already know everything that Danny’s been invisibly oozing out of him for the past months. 

He marches out of his office with the most self-control he’s ever need to call upon to walk past Steve and to the tech table where Chin and Kono are sorting through financials and phone records of the soaking wet suspect they have in their dungeon/interrogation room. Danny simply stands there and when Chin picks his head up, he freezes for just a moment before sagely nodding and offering him a comforting smile. Bless him, they really don’t pay him enough. 

After work, Danny doesn’t even bother going back to his place first. He stops off for a six-pack and drives straight to Chin’s house. He knocks on the door and when Chin easily swings it open with a knowing look Danny doesn’t even want to ask about, he presents the beer like an offering, “Payment for my Chin therapy.” 

The other man simply looks amused, makes a sweeping gesture for Danny to come in and steers him in the direction of the living room, “Step into my office.” 

The McGarrett house is warm in a lived-in, walls filled with memories and traces of human Steve way. Kono’s place is comforting in the way its so inherently hers in the decor and the various Kono-themed things hanging everywhere and in the atmosphere she cultivates. But Chin’s living room is like a storybook hearth that Danny thinks was specifically designed to comfort wayward guests. Its spacious with wine colored walls and big bay windows offering natural light and huge comfy couches and soft quilts and plush carpeting and an actual crackling fireplace and Chin’s reassuring presence and really its just ridiculous. Danny flops onto the couch nearest the fireplace with a loud huff that gets a snort of amusement from Chin. Maybe he shouldn’t literally swoon but hey, he’s tired. And the sofa is so welcoming. He nudges off his shoes and reaches for a beer on the coffee table that separates him from Chin’s leather armchair. 

“So,” Chin leads forward to grab his own bottle, “tell me all about your McGarrett related issues.” Chin opens with, settling himself comfortably in the chair with an expectant smile. Danny opens his mouth to defend that but Chin levels him with a quirked eyebrow and an unspoken Seriously? And yeah, well, that’s that then. 

Danny breathes loudly once though his nose, he doesn’t really know where to start. “Something’s going on with him. Steve. Something more than usual. The reckless behavior and the occasional moodiness I can deal with but this,” Danny sighs, trying to figure out what this is, “This, I don’t know, man.” 

Chin seems to consider this but continues to look quizzical, “What happened?”

“You mean more than the way he’s been acting so weirdly in the past few weeks?” Danny gestures broadly at the ceiling. 

“Danny.” Chin just says his name but it sounds like a you can’t hide anything from me. “Something happened. Or else you wouldn’t be here.” Chin leans forward, elbows resting on knees.

“Okay, look.” Danny pushed himself up in a siting position, "Tuesday afternoon, we were working that multiple burglaries case. You know, the one where the suspects were targeting small businesses in the Lakiki neighborhood?” Danny waited until Chin nodded in confirmation, “We were at this one coffee shop, right. One minute Steve was haranguing the manager, the next he stormed out of there.” Danny took a long pull from his beer, "I found him behind the building, in the middle of a full-blown flashback.” 

Chin looked to be working through that bit of information, Danny didn’t think he looked surprised, rather brought to a level of understanding. And Danny wanted to shout, yes this is what he’s been dealing with, this is what he doesn’t know how, this is what he itches to comfort but doesn’t know how. 

“Did you talk to him about it?” 

Danny resists the urge to roll his eyes out of respect for Chin’s otherwise flawless logic. 

“I tried, but he didn’t want to. I just, I don’t know what to do.”

“Danny, you’re doing everything you can.” Chin drifted forward to rest a hand on Danny’s knee. "You know you can’t force him to open up to you. Just be there, like you always are. When he’s ready, he’ll come to you.” 

Danny bowed his head and breathed out. Chin probably knew exactly how badly Danny needed to hear that. And Danny just let the words wash over him for a few moments. It didn’t fix anything, and he knew that this isn’t the sort of thing that just gets fixed over night, but to have someone tell him that it’s going to be okay was wholly assuaging. 

But Danny wasn’t a patient person. He knew this about himself. Previous encounters have taught him that he’s not too good with backing off or giving space. The feeling to do something nagged at him constantly and was only amplified when that something involved those that he cared about. He wasn’t patient. And sooner or later he knew he would cross a line. 

He met Chin’s eyes and tried to keep his voice even, “But how do I know that I won’t just fuck this up?”

Chin smiled, he actually fucking smiled his little knowing, none too discreet smile and Danny almost threw his hands up. 

“Because you won’t.” Chin stated simply, lounging back into the chair, "It’s Steve, after all.” 

“And what does that mean?” 

“It means that you should probably tell me what’s really bothering you.” 

This time Danny did throw his hands up, surrendering. “Okay, first of all, how the hell do you do that? Are you just that perceptive or am I just that stupid?” Danny stretched his arms wide to incorporate all of his recent stupidity but then dropped them to his sides, "You know what, no. Don’t answer that because I think I can guess. Secondly, you, my friend, clearly chose the wrong profession. You are wasted as a cop. Wasted.” 

“Danny.” Chin smiled expectantly, clearly he wasn’t getting distracted by the stall. Danny sighed heavenward, dragging a hand down his face. 

“Okay, okay, alright yeah, just give a guy a minute.” He fidgeted on the sofa, repressed thoughts felt like they were pinging off the walls of his skull, "Okay, alright, um, like you said, I want to be there. For Steve. We all do, of course. But sometimes boundaries can get a little blurred in these situations and I don’t want to do anything stupid but I’m also sort of in love with him-“

He froze. Panic started bubbling up from his chest and into his throat. 

But Chin didn’t even miss a beat. 

“And you’re afraid of doing something he might not be ready for and you don’t want him thinking you’re taking advantage of his vulnerable state?” 

Danny must have looked like a wide-eyed, frightened woodland creature because Chin actually got up for his armchair to come and sit with Danny on the couch.

“Uh yeah.” Danny finally breathed out. Because yeah that is basically everything he’s been feeling in a nutshell. “Wow you’re good, that’s, you’re good.” He turned to his friend and offered a small smile, "Have I mentioned you’re wasted as a cop?”

Chin simply laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners but then turned to fix Danny with a serious face. “Okay listen. I can’t speak for Steve and certainly not what he’s going through but from my perspective I’m telling you that while PTSD is very serious issue, you don’t have to be anything that you aren’t. He needs someone that doesn’t look at him like he’s broken, that will still call him out for being too impulsive, or call him him back in when he’s out past shore. He needs someone sturdy and constant and grounding.” Chin finished and looked at Danny intently.

“I hear ya, I hear the words, and I know what they mean, but I’m not really following-"

“He needs you, Danny.” And this time it was Chin’s turn to gesticulate exasperatedly. "You are what he needs. Trust me you two are suited right down to the ground but I won’t get into that right now. You have to tell him how you feel. If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure you have nothing to worry about.” 

“What do you mean I have nothing to worry about?”

“Just talk to him.” 

“Chin, I-“

“Talk to him. Now.”

“But, what if-“

“Danny, I swear I will call him right now if you won’t. Don’t test me.” 

“How ‘bout a text?”

“Steve hates texting.”

“So I’ll put into a fancy army code or some shit-“

“Danny! Now. Do it now."

“But what do I say?”

“Seriously? Lolo buggah. That’s it.” Chin reached into his pocket. 

“Don’t do this.”

“You left me no choice, Williams."

“Wait, what are you doing, what are you - Chin, put the phone down! Put it down! Really, we’re going to do this? We’re really going to do this, huh? Okay, okay, stop!” 

“Are you going to call him now?”

“Only because you’re coercing me.” Danny grumbled. After nearly tackling one another and running around the coffee table like idiots, both were a little breathless. Chin was smiling brilliantly and Danny shot him his best scowl. It didn’t phase him. Chin just directed him to the sliding glass door off the dining room that opened to a lovely back porch. 

“You call. I’ll go whip up something to eat.” And with one last Chin-patented encouraging look and a shoulder squeeze, the other man headed off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Danny to flounder about. 

He made his way outside into the cool night air, latching the door behind him. Danny momentarily thought about making a run for his car. But Chin would just give him the disappointed father look and nobody needed that. He pulled out his phone and stared at his contact list. “Fuck it.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head because he was done being afraid of something that hasn’t even happened yet. Inaction was just not something Danny could allow, no matter how vividly he could picture this idea crashing and burning. He’d always been a feet first kind of guy, why stop now? He placed the call. 

 

\- McGarrett.

\- Yes Steve, I know it’s you, I called you. You could open with hello every once in a while. 

\- Did you call just to bitch at me? Because really I get enough of that during normal business hours. 

\- Never enough. No listen, what are you doing tonight?

\- Danny, its eleven o’clock.

\- That’s not answering the question, Steven. 

\- What’s going on? You okay?

\- Yes, yes, of course, I’m fine. So are you busy or what?

\- Now? Am I busy now?

\- Oh my god, this is like pulling teeth. Why you gotta be so difficult?

\- You’re the one that called me-

\- Okay you know what, new tactic because you’re being ridiculous right now. Tomorrow. What are you doing tomorrow? It’s our day off so don’t you dare say you’re heading into work. And Steve, I swear to God if you don’t answer succinctly I’ll burn all of your cargo pants in a great big bonfire in front of HPD.

\- I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow morning-

\- Great. Awesome. Beautiful. See ya then, sleep tight. 

 

Danny sleeps on Chin’s couch that night. Or really, he stares at Chin’s ceiling all night. And twitches. And shifts. And stares. It’s not like he’s melodramatic, well sure he’s dramatic, or rather he’s full of dramatics but he tries to avoid the drama that he always seems to find himself in. It’s much preferable to be dramatic about someone else’s drama than his own. And okay, he really has to stop thinking the word ‘dramatic’ because this is all getting out of hand. 

He can’t sleep. Can’t close his eyes without picturing a thousands ways he can just run away from all of his problems. Well, really just his one big problem. So he stares. But he can’t think past what the hell was he thinking calling Steve. Can’t think past what the fuck he’s going to say to him tomorrow. Can’t mute the thought in his head playing over and over reminding him that if he crosses this line, there really isn’t any going back. That he could lose literally everything he doesn’t hate about Hawaii if this all goes sour. 

Sure, okay, he’s melodramatic as hell right now. He’ll concede. But really when one is about to tell their partner everything, one has a right to be melodramatic. 

And where is he even going to start? Does he just rip the bandaid off? Shortest amount of words with the highest impact? Or does he explain everything slowly because Steve sometimes needs him to use small words when he starts rambling on and on and on. And he’ll ramble, oh he’ll ramble, he’s a panic talker. The second he senses any tension or feels his big spiel going sideways, he’ll just open his mouth and everything will come pouring out. He’ll be a train wreck and a half tomorrow morning. Danny lets out a huge sigh. Well, at least he knows that going into it. 

Danny roughly turns himself to face the back of the couch and burrows further into the soft cushions, annoyed with himself for stressing so much about Steve. He was just one guy. One impossibly infuriating man and Danny refused to waste his last night of blissful ignorance thinking about him.


End file.
